







FIGHTING A FIRE 









A NEW YORK FIRE. 















FIGHTING A FIRE 


BY 


CHARLES T. HILL 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
PROM DRAWINGS BY THE AUTHOR 



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NEW YORK 
THE CENTURY CO. 








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Copyright, 1894, 1896, 1897, 

By The Century Co. 


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The De Vinne Press. 



TO THE 


OFFICERS AND MEMBERS 


OF THE FIRE DEPARTMENT OF GREATER NEW YORK 
THIS LITTLE BOOK IS 

DEDICATED, 

IN GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF ASSISTANCE 
GIVEN THE AUTHOR IN HIS ATTEMPT TO RE¬ 
LATE THEIR EXPERIENCES AND THEIR 
ACHIEVEMENTS IN FIGHTING FIRE, 

AND IN SAVING LIFE AND 


PROPERTY 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Fighting a Fire. 1 

A School for Firemen. 36 

An Alarm of Fire by Telegraph. 62 

The Risks of a Fireman’s Life .106 

Peter Spots, Fireman.153 

Floating Fire-Engines.189 

The Fire Patrol.217 


ix 











ILLUSTRATIONS 

/ 

A New York Fire. Frontispiece 

yr PAGE 

The House-Watchman and the Gongs .... 5 

Hitching Up. 9 

“Rolling to the Fire” — At Full Speed ... 13 

^Stretching In.”. 17 

u Opening Up.”. 21 

The Battalion-Chief Arrives and Takes 
Command. 25 

u Hitting the Fire.”. 29 

Taking Up.”. 33 

A Chain of Ladders. 37 

Climbing “ en echelon.”. 39 

u Building a Chain.” . 43 

' The Belt, Showing the “ Snap ” Hook and 

Hatchet. 45 

Using the Scaling-Ladder — “ Straddling 
Sills.” .. 47 

“ Standing on Sills.”. 51 

Carrying a Man Down the “ Roof-Line.” . . 55 

Catching a Man in the “ Life-Net.”. 59 

A Street Box. Sending in an Alarm. 63 

Keyless Box, Outside." 65 

Keyless Box, Opened. 67 


XI 



















xn 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Keyless Box, Inside. 68 

“A Fire-Engine Appears, Drawn by Three 

Plunging Gray Horses.”. 71 

“ The Engine Approaching From the East Turns 
the Corner.” . 75 

A Hook-and-Ladder Company. 79 

A Water-Tower. 83 

General View of the Fire-Alarm Telegraph 
Headquarters . 87 

A Set of Wheels from the Special. 89 

The Register. 91 

A Repeater Button. 94 

The Repeater. 95 

The “Transmitter”. 99 

The Operator Sending Out an Alarm on the 
“ Combination.” . ..103 

Attacking a Fire in a Sub-Cellar.109 

A Leap for Life.115 

Going to a Fire in a Blizzard.121 

Ladder-Work in Zero Weather..127 

“Taking” a Shower of Falling Glass.133 

A A Hot Place.137 

A Falling Wall.143 

“Start Your Water,”.147 

Peter Spots.155 

“‘Would You Like to be a Fireman’s DogT” . 161 
Peter on Duty. 167 























ILLUSTRATIONS xiii 

PAGE 

Peter on “ House-Watch . 77 . 173 

a Every Time Peter Gave a Kick, He Knocked a 
Pie or a Plate full of Cakes out of the 
Window”.179 

“ Crash ! Out he Came, Through Glass and all !” 183 

The “New-Yorker” at Fire Drill.191 

* Giant Monitor-Nozzle on the Fire Boat “New 
Yorker.”.195 

Fire-Boat “ Zophar Mills.”. 201 

The Fire-Boat “ Wm. F. Havemeyer ” Beginning 
Work on a Burning Pier.205 

The “New-Yorker ” and “ Zophar Mills” at 
Work Upon a Burning Ship .213 

The Chemical Engine .219 

1 The Fire Patrol .225 

Fire Patrol Men Carrying Covers into a 
Burning Store . 231 

In the Cellar with the Fire. 237 

A Water-Tower at Work. 243 

















FIGHTING A FIEE 







FIGHTING A FIRE 


^^TEAR the door of every engine-house there 
is a railed-off space, at the end of which 
stands a small desk with a gas-jet beside it. On 
the desk is a large book—known officially as the 
“ house-journal.” In this book is kept a detailed 
record of all the fires this company has taken part 
in extinguishing, and it also contains other memo¬ 
randa in connection with the working of the de¬ 
partment. At the desk sits a fireman, reading 
a paper, perhaps, or maybe putting down in the 
journal the record of some fellow-fireman who 
has just gone off duty for a short time, first 
having obtained the permission of the company’s 
captain. Near by, somewhere on the apparatus- 
floor, possibly another fireman may be found 
cleaning out the stalls of the horses, or keeping 
bright the metal-work on the swinging-harness, 
but ready in an instant to assist in hitching up 
the horses should a “call,” or an alarm, come 



o 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


ringing out from the array of instruments ranged 
along the wall near the desk. 

The man sitting at the desk is the “ man on 
watch,” or “ house-watcliman,” as he is called. 
One is on duty all the time, alternating with other 
members of the company, the day’s length being 
divided in five watches, as follows: from 8 a. m. 
till 1 p. M.; from 1 till 6 p. M.; from G p. m. till 12 
midnight; from 12 M. till 6 a. M. ; and from 6 till 
8 a. M. (the “ dog-watcli”). Two men are on watch 
at the “ last watch,” or that one from 12 midnight 
till 6 a. m., to facilitate the hitching up of the 
horses, the rest of the company being in bed. 

Let us look at the various instruments for re¬ 
ceiving the alarm. They are not many, and are 
very interesting. I shall describe them without 
using any technicalities, for I know very little 
about them technically, but I will try to explain 
what an important part they take in aiding the 
firemen to respond to an alarm of fire. 

First, at the lower right-hand side, on a black 
walnut base-board, is placed the instrument offi¬ 
cially called the “combination,” and by the fire¬ 
men termed the “joker.” Why “joker” I do not 
know; but it is called the “combination” because 
it combines both the bell for receiving the alarm, 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


3 


and the “ trip,” or device for mechanically releas¬ 
ing the horses, which I shall describe further on. 

This is the first bell to ring the alarm, or num¬ 
ber of the station whence the alarm is sent; but 
before it rings there is a slight “click” heard in 
the Morse instrument placed above it. This might 
be called a “ warning bell,” and by the ordinary 
listener would not be noticed at all; but to the 
quick ear of the man on watch, and the equally 
well-trained ears of the horses, there needs no 
second stroke to tell them that an alarm will fol¬ 
low. This click is caused by the opening of the 
electric circuit in which the station is situated. 

Beside the combination-bell, or joker, there is 
a small weight that slides up and down a brass 
rod. It is held in place at the top by a catch con¬ 
nected with the hammer of the bell; and, as this 
hammer draws back to make the first stroke of 
the alarm, it releases this weight, and the weight 
slides down the rod. Being attached by a little 
chain to a lever projecting from the side of a clock 
hanging beside it, the weight, as it falls, pulls this 
lever down and stops the clock, thus showing at 
wliat instant the alarm was received. 

At the bottom of the rod there is a very large 
lever set with a trigger-like catch, and connected 


4 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


by wires underneath the floor with the stalls of 
the horses. In the side of each stall there is a 
sliding bolt to which is fastened the lialter-strap, 
or chain, that keeps the horses in their stalls. 
These bolts are connected by the wires with one 
end of the lever, and to the other end is attached 
a heavy counter-weight, also under the floor. The 
trigger-like catch is so adjusted that it just over¬ 
balances this weight when the “ trip ” is set. 
When an alarm begins to ring, the same falling 
weight that stops the clock strikes this trigger; 
this “trips” the lever, it flies up, the bolts are 
pulled down in the stalls, and the horses are re¬ 
leased the instant the first tap on the gong is 
heard. 

Above the combination is placed a Morse in¬ 
strument— sounder and key — and beside it a 
telephone, to communicate with headquarters or 
with other companies, and also a few frames con¬ 
taining a list of stations that particular company 
goes to, on receiving the first, second, or third 
alarms. 

At the other side, nearly over the desk, is placed 
the big gong, twelve or fifteen inches in diameter, 
and very loud-sounding. This begins to strike 
when the smaller gong has rung off two u rounds,” 



THE HOUSE-WATCHMAN AND THE GONGS. 


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FIGHTING A FIRE 


7 


or the number of the box twice, and should the 
man on watch have failed to count the num¬ 
ber of the station on the joker, he will have 
no difficulty in getting the number from the big 
gong, for it strikes slowly — that is, slowly in 
comparison with the joker, which rings the num¬ 
ber out very fast. The large gong is very loud, 
and can be heard a block away. The company 
receives four rounds on the small bell and two 
on the big bell; or, more correctly speaking, the 
number of the station is rung four times on the 
joker and twice on the big gong. But it is 
rarely that the firemen have to wait to get the 
signal from the latter, for before the small bell 
has rattled off its second round the engine has 
rolled out of the house and they are on the way 
to the fire. 

A light is burning brightly beside the desk; 
inside the railed inclosure a fireman sits reading 
a newspaper, and with one hand shades his eyes 
from the bright glare of the gas-jet in front of 
him. Maybe he is dozing; but if he is taking a 
quiet nap, he is sleeping as General Grant did on 
the eve of battle—with one eye open. In the rear 
of one of the stalls another fireman, pitchfork in 
hand, is shaking up and arranging the hay that 


8 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


forms the bed for the horses. A few passers-by 
stop for a moment to look in through the partly 
open doorway at the spick-and-span apparatus 
always in such perfect order: the harness swing¬ 
ing evenly over the pole of the engine, the end of 
which, butted with brass, shines like polished gold. 
Already some of the horses are down on their 
haunches nibbling at a bit of hay, and preparing 
to go to sleep. The telegraph-instruments at the 
side keep up an endless clicking and tingling, and 
but for these sounds all would be very quiet. 
Overhead, in the u bunk-room,” or dormitory, the 
men are preparing to “ turn in,” but a few, in one 
corner, lingering to watch the result of an exciting 
game of checkers between two recognized cham¬ 
pions of the company. 

Click ! — one stroke on the instrument, followed 
by a quick tang-tang-tang-tang-tang — a pause, 
tang-tang-tang — a pause, tang-tang on the joker 
— the man at the desk springs to his feet and 
shouts, “ Get up ! ” — the weight has fallen, the 
lever flies up, the horses are released. They 
need no command, but are on their feet even 
before the fireman calls, and rattle out of their 
stalls and under the swinging-harness. Snap , 
snap! go the collars about their necks, and then 


HITCHING Ul 



















FIGHTING A FIRE 


11 


the u bit-snaps ” are locked at each side in an 
instant. Thud , thud ! come the men, sliding down 
the poles at both sides of the house, and striking 
the rubber pads placed below. Bounding from 
there to the floor, they climb to their various 
places upon the apparatus. 

The driver lias jumped to his seat on the engine 
and snaps in place the belt that secures him there; 
the engineer, and the foreman also, spring on the 
engine; and the engineer with one foot shoves 
down a lever in the floor that shuts off connec¬ 
tion with a boiler in the basement. This boiler 
always keeps up about ten or twelve pounds 
of steam-pressure in the engine. The engineer 
snatches up a lump of oil-soaked waste, lights it, 
and throws it in the furnace of the engine, amid 
the wood piled there; the driver leans forward, and, 
taking up the reins, gives a slight pull toward him. 
This pull releases a catch in the iron framework 
that holds up the harness, and this frame flies up 
to the ceiling, letting the harness fall on the backs 
of the horses. 

The man on watch shouts to the driver the 
number of the station and its locality, the big 
doors slide open — and the engine dashes off to 
the fire! 


12 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


The same manceuvers have been going on be¬ 
hind the engine, where the u tender,” or hose-car¬ 
riage, is hitching up, and it is after the engine as 
fast as the horses can fly. 

I have leave to jump on and go with them. 
Hattlety-bang we pound over the cobbles, and then 
— with a bump! we go over the flagging at the 
crossing — swish ! around the corner with a turn 
so quick it makes my hair stand on end, and we 
“straighten out” for a run along the avenue. 

We are now in the wake of the engine, in a 
cloud of smoke and cinders pouring from the top 
of the latter, and we are gaining every second. 
The lamp-posts — the shop-windows — the crowds 
of shouting people—pass back of us like a quickly 
flying panorama. The horses seem fairly to fly. 
Around this wagon we swing, then pull up for 
another until a lialf-frightened driver can turn his 
startled horse out of our way, and then we put on 
a burst of speed to make up for the delay. 

I assure you, it takes a cool head and a quick 
eye to drive a pair of fire-liorses. 

We are quickly almost up with the engine, for 
our horses have less weight to pull, and soon we 
have no difficulty in passing it, which we do with 
a shout. Now we are nearing the fire, the men 



ROLLING TO THE FIRE.”—AT FULL SPEED. 































FIGHTING A FIRE 


15 


beside me are leisurely pulling on their rubber 
coats and putting on their fire-liats, and I — well, 
I am holding on for dear life, expecting every 
moment to be thrown off behind in a heap. Not 
that I am afraid — oh, no ! — but you see, I am the 
“thirteenth” member of the company (so every 
friend, or hanger-on, of a company is called, there 
being twelve regular members — a foreman, an 
assistant foreman, and ten men), and I have to 
take very good care of myself in consequence, for 
that is considered an unlucky number to bear; 
and if anything happens, it may happen to me. 

A big cloud of black smoke, a group of excited 
people, a policeman running toward us, indicate 
the location of the fire. A fireman jumps from 
the tender, and, running ahead of us, looks for 
the nearest hydrant. About eighteen or twenty 
feet of the hose has been run oft the reel, and a 
man stands with it in hand ready to throw it to 
the man at the hydrant. Another tender has 
turned the corner ahead, and is making with break¬ 
neck speed for the same pump. Can we reach it 
first f 

Our driver leans forward and urges the horses 
onward, giving them full rein, and they jump 
through the air, pulling the tender along with 


16 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


great jerks. We near the hydrant; our man 
stands there ready, waving his wrench in the air 
and shouting to us. The other tender is advanc¬ 
ing with frightful rapidity, but they are just a 
little too late! 

We fly past the hydrant, the hose is thrown to 
our man, he takes a turn about the pump, and we 
“stretch in” to the fire. This gives us “first 
water,” as it is called, and the foreman of our com¬ 
pany takes precedence of the foremen of all other 
companies on account of being the first to arrive, 
and has “ charge of the fire ” until a battalion-chief 
arrives, when the foreman turns the command 
over to him. 

Our captain has jumped off the engine at the 
corner, and, running ahead, is at the entrance to 
direct us when we arrive. 

Our engine follows quickly, and, dashing up to 
the hydrant, the hydrant-connection is unshipped 
from its place in the long tubes that hang over 
the wheels on both sides of the boiler, and is fas¬ 
tened to the hydrant and then to the pump of the 
engine. The hose, taken around to the other side 
of the engine, is rapidly screwed to the pump, and 
we, having pulled up in front of the fire, hastily 
roll off from the reel the number of lengths of 



2 















FIGHTING A FIRE 


19 


hose needed; a nozzle is placed at the end, and 
we are all ready when the order is passed to the 
engineer to u start the water.” 

It is a cellar fire,— a bad one,—and in a factory. 
Clouds of dense black smoke pour up from the 
basement, and put of every crevice around the big 
folding-doors that form the entrance. Bits of fall¬ 
ing glass tell us that the pressure of smoke and 
of the gas generated by the combustion going on 
within the building is beginning to break the win¬ 
dows in the upper part, and if we are not active 
the flames will get the better of us. Our fore¬ 
man is everywhere at once, directing the captains 
of the arriving companies to their different posi¬ 
tions. 

Two more tenders have rolled up and deposited 
their complement of hose ready to be manned and 
directed against the fire. A u truck,” or liook-and- 
ladder, company thunders upon the scene, with its 
load of heavy ladders and firemen’s implements, 
weighing over four tons. Dropping from it as it 
slows up, men come running over to our aid armed 
with axes and hooks, ready to make an opening 
in the building so that we may get at the seat of 
the fire. 

The watchman of the factory cannot be found. 


20 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


Our foreman shouts, “ Quick! the battering-ram. 
Break open the big doors! ” 

One is quickly unshipped from its place under¬ 
neath the truck, and, with a man on each side, at 
the command of the captain the ram is lunged 
forward at the big doors. Crash! — the doors 
quiver under the impact of the combined weight 
of the solid mass of iron and the two heavy men. 
A few more blows and the locks give way, the 
doors fly open, and into the black, stifling smoke 
we force our way, dragging the heavy hose 
with us. 

We can see no fire,— nothing but thick, dense 
smoke choking our throats, and making the water 
run from our eyes in streams. Meanwhile the 
men from the truck-company have been at work 
with the butt-ends of their axes, and have broken 
open the deadlights and grating in the front over 
the basement and the basement doors. The fire 
having shown up there, we are ordered to “ back 
out ” and “ work in v the basement — an order 
easily given, but not so easily obeyed; for the 
smoke is now thick and so stifling that people 
in the crowd on the other side of the street are 
obliged to beat a quick retreat before it. But we 
firemen are there to obey commands, not to ques¬ 
tion them, and down we go. 



I 

















FIGHTING A FIRE 


23 


A shower of glass greets us as we back out, for 
it is now raining glass and bits of the window- 
frames from above. Ladders having been raised 
to the upper floors, the truck-men are making an 
opening for the pipe-men of other companies, that 
they may be oil hand should the fire get above the 
first floor. Another shower, this time of red-hot 
plaster, greets us as we work our way into the 
basement; and the fire, now spreading all over the 
ceiling, brings more down around us. The heat 
is frightful there, and we turn our fire-hats back 
foremost to protect our faces as best we can. We 
slash the water around, knocking over burning 
beams and piles of packing-boxes, the hose squirm¬ 
ing and quivering under the pressure of the tons 
of water being forced through it every minute: 
the united strength of three or four men is re¬ 
quired to control it. All at once one of our num¬ 
ber gives a gasp and tumbles down at our feet, 
face forward, in a pool of dirty water and plaster, 
overcome by the smoke and heat. Another drops 
his hold upon the hose and stoops to assist his 
fallen comrade. It is now red-hot in the base¬ 
ment, and we cannot breathe much longer. If we 
do not back out soon, it will be all over with us; 
but firemen, in the enthusiasm and excitement of 


24 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


the moment, liate to retreat until actually driven 
out, so we still hold our position. At last we can¬ 
not stand it, and we retreat to the doorway. 

The fireman who was overcome, assisted by one 
or more companions, reaches the foot of the stairs. 
A battalion-chief in command on the pavement 
above, seeing our position, shouts, “ Here! A 
man hurt! Down in the basement! ” In a second 
a dozen brave fellows dash down the steps, and, 
lifting up our injured comrade, carry him tenderly 
up to the street, and then over to one of the patrol- 
wagons, where, with plenty of fresh air and brisk 
rubbing, he is soon brought to his senses. 

The chief follows the men down the stairway, 
and, giving one look at the blazing cellar, says, 
“This is too hot for you; back out, quick!” We 
need no second command, but get up the stairway 
as fast as we can. As we reach the foot of the 
stairs in our retreat, crash ! conies the floor down 
where we have been standing, and our place is 
taken by a packed-in mass of blazing timbers. A 
few seconds later, and we might have been under 
that mass. 

The water is now all directed at this point, and 
the fire in this part of the building is slowly con¬ 
quered. It has reached the first and second floors, 


the battalion-chief arrives and takes command. 



Mini 

.. 













FIGHTING A FIRE 


27 


however, by way of the stairways and elevator- 
openings, and the men placed there to receive it 
are having a hard tussle, and although they are 
making a brave light, it is gradually getting the 
better of them. 

Soon they too are forced to retreat before the 
mass of lire that slowly drives them back, for the 
building is stored with inflammable material, and, 
getting a little headway, the flames spread rapidly. 

Despite all their efforts, it reaches the two upper 
floors, and finding no vent, it spreads over the ceil¬ 
ing of the top floor, and breaks from the front 
windows with renewed vigor. It makes a more 
formidable showing here than it did in the cellar; 
but we have the force ready to fight with, and will 
make short work of it. 

Our foreman, on the arrival of the first battalion- 
chief, has turned the command over to him, and 
the chief has sent out additional alarms, second 
and third. We now have massed about the fire 
twelve engine-companies, four truck-companies, 
about four chiefs, a deputy chief superintendent, 
a chief superintendent (the head of the depart¬ 
ment), and two sections of the Insurance Patrol. 
The Patrol men have covered up the office furni¬ 
ture in the front office with their tarpaulins, and 


28 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


are ready to save additional property should the 
fire spread. There is also a fuel-wagon dashing 
here and there among the engines, to supply them 
with coal. In all there are about two hundred 
men at work. 

A water-tower too has arrived, and being raised 
in front of the building, at the outbreak in the 
upper floors it is immediately p\it to work. The 
streams from three or four engines are fed into 
the supply-pipes at the sides, and soon a steady 
stream of about 2000 or 2500 gallons of water per 
minute is being thrown upon the flames—a deluge 
that no body of fire can long withstand. 

Companies have been sent to the rear to work 
in from the next street; “rollers” or “hose- 
hoists ” (a device used on the roofs or cornices of 
houses to protect the hose when it is pulled up 
from the street, to prevent their cutting it) have 
been placed on adjoining houses, and lines of hose 
have been run up there to fight the fire from that 
point. Short ladders have also been pulled up to 
the roofs of adjoining buildings and raised to the 
side windows; and lines of hose are put to work 
there. “Cellar-pipes” are brought into play to 
pour streams of water along the ceiling of the 
cellar. Even in the house adjoining the one on 



HITTING THE FIRE 


99 












FIGHTING A FIRE 


31 


fire, men with a battering-ram are at work break¬ 
ing a hole through the foundation-wall, so that 
streams of water mav be directed at the fire from 
that point, to drown it out. 

Men from the truck-companies have been work¬ 
ing on the roof, at the outbreak of the fire, cutting 
it open that the smoke and gases may escape and 
better air come to the men working within the 

building. The flames, driven back from the front 

* 

of the building, find these openings and vent their 
fury through them; and, the massive stream of the 
water-tower beginning to tell in an effective man¬ 
ner, we soon have the satisfaction of seeing the 
last squirming flame flicker and go out before the 
deluge of water that is being poured on it from 
all points. 

Before long nothing but a hissing, smoldering 
mass is left. The ruin is thoroughly soaked and 
washed down before the tired firemen are ordered 
to “ shut off.” 

The extra companies sent for by the last two 
alarms are now ordered home, and the dark street 
is full of men in long rubber-coats carrying lan¬ 
terns. They go about amid the twisted labyrinth 
of hose, “disconnecting” or unscrewing the differ¬ 
ent sections of hose, that the water may drain 


32 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


from them before they are “ taken up ” and rolled 
upon the reel of the tender. 

Being the first company to arrive, we are the 
last to leave, and we remain until with men from 
the truck-company we thoroughly go over the 
building from top to bottom, tearing down door¬ 
jambs and window-casings, and pulling up parts 
of the floor — “overhauling,” as it is called, that 
no unseen spark may be left smoldering to break 
out anew after we have left; for the battalion- 
chief under whose command we are now working 
is responsible for the fire, and should it start up 
again, it would go hard with him before the com¬ 
missioners, by whom he would be called to ac¬ 
count. 

Soon we,, too, are “disconnecting,” and when 
the different sections of hose have been hauled up 
behind the tender, we screw them together again 
and they are wound upon the reel, being pulled 
taut over the iron roller at the back part as they 
are reeled in. This thoroughly squeezes out all 
the remaining water from them, and winds the 
hose evenly on the reel. 

We are now “rolling home,” dirty, begrimed, and 
partly soaked, and followed by a crowd of boys 
about a mile long. When we reach the engine- 


TAKING UP 



3 

















FIGHTING A FIRE 


35 


house, we take off from the reel all the lengths of 
hose we have used, including three or four ad¬ 
ditional lengths to make sure of getting every 
length that contains any water. The wet lengths 
are hung up to dry in a long shaft in the engine- 
house called the “hose-tower,” while dry lengths 
take their places. Water left in the hose causes 
a mildew that rots and destroys it very quickly. 

We wash down the engine and tender; a new 
fire is made ready in the furnace of the former; 
the horses are put back in their stalls, and, af¬ 
ter the engine and tender have been rolled back 
to their respective places on the floor, they are 
brought out under the iron framework and the 
swinging-harness is hoisted into place again. The 
clock is started once more and set right; the 
weight is again placed at the top of the sliding- 
rod ; the lever or “ trip ” at the bottom is set, and 
the horses are fastened in their stalls. 

Then the captain steps up to the telegraph-in¬ 
strument, and, clicking off a few clicks, informs 
headquarters that he is “ at home ” once more, and 
ready to receive another “ call.” 


A SCHOOL FOR FIREMEN 


* 

rilHERE is perhaps no branch of the public 
J- service in our greater cities that awakens 
such a responsive chord in the hearts of all who ad¬ 
mire bravery and daring, as the Fire Department. 

Because of our peaceable relations with foreign 
nations we do not require a large standing-army, 
and for that reason there are fewer soldiers to 
admire than in European countries. But in our 
brave firemen, ever ready to respond to the call 
for help, to face danger and perhaps death at 
any moment, we find a class worthy of hero-wor¬ 
ship, and deserving of whatever praise they may 
receive. 

The rattle and dash of the engines, the clanging 
of the bells, and the mad gallop of the horses on 
their way to a fire are always exciting, and staid 
indeed must be the boy or man who can resist the 
temptation to follow them to the scene of action. 


A SCHOOL FOR FIREMEN 


37 


When we watch the men work¬ 
ing at a fire, occupying most per¬ 
ilous and hazardous positions, on 
the roofs of buildings and upon 
ladders, suffering tortures from 
smoke and flames, we can scarce 
suppress exclamations of admi¬ 
ration for the daring manner in 
which they so coolly face what 
seems to our eyes almost certain 
death. 

Every city in the United States 
shows local pride in its firemen. 
Each claims that its department 
is one of the best, if not the best, 
in the country. The rivalry be¬ 
tween some of the cities is at 
times quite amusing, and there 
is much discussion upon the 
merits of their own firemen; but 
New York City undoubtedly oc¬ 
cupies to-day the enviable posi¬ 
tion of having, all things con¬ 
sidered, the most thoroughly 
equipped and most efficient fire- 
service in the world. 






A CHAIN OF LADDERS. 







38 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


The apparatus is of the best. The horses, se¬ 
lected with care and judgment, are magnificent 
animals; and the men, picked from those thought 
to be best adapted for the work they must per¬ 
form, are subjected to a most rigid physical ex¬ 
amination before they are admitted to the service, 
and afterward are trained in a school of instruc¬ 
tion at Fire Headquarters that is complete in 
itself. 

A description of this school will no doubt be 
found interesting, for it is mainly due to the effi¬ 
ciency of this branch of the service that the Fire 
Department of New York stands to-day at the 
head of the departments of the world. The grad¬ 
uates of this school are a hardy, muscular set of 
men, well trained in the perilous work that they 
must encounter in active service. They are not 
only taught how to handle intelligently all the 
appliances used in extinguishing fires, but—what 
is more important—they receive a thorough train¬ 
ing in the use of the many modern devices for 
saving lives at fires. The numerous heroic rescues 
made by firemen every year in New York City 
bear evidence to the fact that the instruction they 
have received here is well applied. 

The school was organized in February, 1883, 




<2 



CLIMBING “EN ECHELON 




















































A SCHOOL FOR FIREMEN 


41 


primarily for the purpose of instructing the men 
of the different companies in the use of the “ scal¬ 
ing-ladder,” which had then just been introduced 
in the department. It gradually became enlarged 
in its scope, however, until, with the completion 
of the new Fire Headquarters building in January, 
1887, it became a general school of instruction — 
not only for the new men admitted on trial (called 
u probationary firemen ”), but for the men already 
in service — in the use of all life-saving appara¬ 
tus, and in the many appliances used for fighting 
a fire. 

Before they had this new building, in East 67th 
Street, the companies were taught the use of the 
scaling-ladders and “life-net” at an old sugar- 
warehouse near the foot of West 158th Street and 
the North Fiver, and here the classes numbered 
nearly sixty men at a time. But this building was 
in an out-of-the-way place, and lacked the facil¬ 
ities necessary for instructing the men in raising 
large extension-ladders, and in the use of the many 
new tools then being added to the department. 

When the new Fire Headquarters building was 
being completed, a yard designed for this purpose 
was built at the back of that building. This yard 
is about one hundred feet square, being well ce- 


42 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


merited and drained, so that water can be used in 
the lessons. Here “company drills” were intro¬ 
duced — companies being summoned unexpectedly 
from different parts of the city, just as they would 
be called to an actual fire. 

When they arrived the engines were started and 
the men put through all the manoeuvers of bat¬ 
tling with the flames. The hose was dragged up 
the staircase to the top of the building, water was 
started or shut off, and large quantities were used 
in the different movements executed in the yard 
or from the windows at the rear. The men were 
thus made acquainted with every appliance car¬ 
ried upon the apparatus, and the system was per¬ 
fected in every detail. 

Companies received ratings on the books kept 
by the instructor according to the proficiency they 
showed at the drills; and some idea of what effect 
these drills had in improving the service may 
be gathered from the fact that, when they were 
started, of the eighty or more companies in the 
department there were about twenty-one com¬ 
panies in the first grade, nineteen in the second, 
and forty in the third or lowest grade. After 
three years of instruction, there were only four or 
five in the last grade, about fifteen in the second, 




* 




































































A SCHOOL FOR FIREMEN 


45 


and fully sixty received the rating of first-grade 
companies. 

It is here, in this yard, where these company 
drills played so important a part in bringing the 
New York department to its present point of per¬ 
fection, that the recruit receives his first instruc¬ 



tion in the use of the scaling-ladder, the life-line, 
and the life-net. 

After the new fireman has passed the civil-ser¬ 
vice and physical examination in the gymnasium 
on the fifth floor of the building, he is put into 
one of the classes drilling in the yard, and gradu¬ 
ally “broken in,” being taught how to handle, 
raise, and balance the ladders before he is allowed 
to use them at all. Since the ladders weigh from 







4G FIGHTING A FIRE 

twenty to sixty-five pounds, and are from fourteen 
to twenty feet in length, it can be seen that it is 
not easy to manage them. After the novice has 
mastered this, his opening lesson, he is allowed to 
go up to the first window, and then, as his confi¬ 
dence increases, to the second, and so on to the 
top; but he is kept at each window until all ner¬ 
vousness has passed away, for the recruit is at 
first very nervous, and, as the instructor laugh¬ 
ingly remarks, “ You can hear his teeth chattering 
a block away !” 

He is soon skilful, and when he finds he can 
gain the fourth and fifth story with comparative 
ease, he looks down upon his less proficient com¬ 
panions and laughs at their timidity. 

As he becomes more familiar with the handling 
of the ladders, he is taught how to “build a chain” 
— a line of ladders from the street to the roof, 
with a man at each story. In this drill, when the 
first man reaches the top floor, he fastens himself 
firmly to the ladder he is on, by. means of a large 
steel “ snap ” attached to a stout canvas belt which 
each wears. Then, reaching down, he brings up 
another ladder; and as he passes it out and over 
a cornice projecting some three feet from the 
building, and, releasing himself from his own lad- 








USING THE SCALING-LADDER — “ STRADDLING SILLS. 






















































A SCHOOL FOR FIREMEN 


49 


der, climbs nimbly up this frail-looking affair, 
swinging to and fro in mid-air, the looker-on 
almost holds his breath, and does n’t wonder at the 
“ teeth-chattering ” referred to by the instructor in 
his remarks on the school. 

This exercise is not indulged in, however, until 
the class has about finished its course at the school, 
and all are thoroughly proficient in handling the 
ladders. It is a most thrilling and exciting drill 
to watch, and you cannot help a throb of admi¬ 
ration for the nerve and pluck of men who per¬ 
form it. 

“ Straddling sills ” is the next instruction the 
fireman receives. In this drill he sits astride a 
window-sill, and, holding himself in place by the 
pressure of his knees against the sides, he pulls up 
a ladder, and, carefully balancing it, passes its 
hook into the window above. Then climbing to 
that window, he goes through the same manceu- 
ver, and so on to the top, and then down again. 

By this movement one man with one ladder 
could reach any floor in a burning structure, and 
by letting down a small rope that he carries in his 
belt, haul up a “roof-line,’’—that is, a heavier rope, 
—and thus lower a number of people to safety. 

Then conies “ standing on sills.” This drill re- 


50 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


quires two men. One, standing on the sill of a 
window, is held firmly in place by another inside 
the window who pulls stoutly upon the steel snap 
in his belt. The outside man reaches down, and, 
pulling up the ladder, places it in the window 
above. Both then climb up, and their positions 
are reversed. They are kept at these different 
exercises until they can perform each quickly 
and without any hitch, and they leave the school 
trained in every way. 

To vary the monotony of the ladder drills, be¬ 
tween lessons the men are taught how to come 
down a rope alone, or to bring a person with them. 
Two turns of the roof-line are taken, inside and 
around the steel snap on the belt, which exert 
enough friction to act as a brake, and with a slight 
pressure of the hand on the rope below the snap, 
the fireman can perfectly control the speed of de¬ 
scent. Four turns are taken if they have to bring 
a person down with them. 

Next in the series is found a movement that re¬ 
quires a cool head and plenty of nerve on the part 
of the recruit. It is known as climbing “ en eche¬ 
lon.” He hooks his ladder in a window at one side 
of the one just above him, and, while the ladder 
swings like a pendulum into its place, he climbs 





“STANDING ON SILLS 














































































































































A SCHOOL FOR FIREMEN 


53 


up. Though this appears a risky feat, and one 
that needs considerable confidence and proficiency, 
it is a valuable accomplishment. Should the fire¬ 
man in actual service attempt to rescue one from 
the upper part of a building, and find above him 
a window so charged with flame that he cannot 
enter, it is by this feat that he passes up and 
around that window and thus reaches by a round¬ 
about course the floors above. 

When the life-net is brought out and held by 
fifteen or twenty of his companions, the recruit is 
taught how to jump into this last resort of the life¬ 
saving corps, and — what is more important — he 
himself learns how to hold it in turn to receive 
one of his companions. 

The net is of rope, circular and woven from a 
central ring. The strands radiate regularly from 
this center to the different handles attached to the 
rim or edge so as to equalize the strain when a 
body strikes the net. 

When firemen jump they are taught to come 
down in such a way that by throwing their feet 
out they may land in a sitting position. Landing 
in this manner, they escape the possibility of their 
legs or arms going through the net and being 
injured by striking the ground —a point that 


54 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


is not out of place for every one to know. 
Each member of the party takes a turn at 
jumping into and at holding the net; and by 
this means there is no shirking or carelessness in 
performing that part of the lessons, for every 
pupil knows that his turn to jump will come 
sooner or later, and the application of the “ golden 
rule ” is brought forcibly to his mind. Each man 
is veiy particular to do his share of the work with 
painstaking care and attention. As the instructor 
put it: “I make each man jump into the net, and 
then there’s no 4 playing soldier ’ in holding it — 
no, sir! ” 

In holding the net, the men brace themselves 
with one foot forward, and, bringing the arms up, 
half bent, they grasp the handles of the net firmly 
in each hand, thus bringing the rim or outer edge 
of the net about on a level with their shoulders, 
and as high as it can possibly be kept from the 
ground. They then watch for the descending 
body, and as it is about to strike they all stretch 
together; the arms, being half bent, act as springs, 
and bring the strain of the falling body on the 
muscles of their upper arms. Were they to stand 
with their arms stretched out straight, the shock 
would be so great that it would pull them off their 



CARRYING A MAN DOWN THE “ROOF-LINE.” 

























A SCHOOL FOR FIREMEN 


57 


feet, and might pitch them head first into the net 
themselves. 

They are taught not only how to hold the net, 
but how to hold it correctly and yet be able to 
move quickly about in any direction, so that they 
may catch a person falling or jumping from any 
window, and may receive him exactly in the mid¬ 
dle of the net. This is most important, for at a 
fire the smoke might be so thick that the one 
jumping could not see the net, nor those holding 
it be able to see the body descending. In order to 
prepare them for such an emergency, a dummy of 
about the weight of the average person is used. 
This is thrown from different heights, at a signal 
from the instructor, and usually in a direction dif¬ 
ferent from that expected by the men. 

It is estimated that this dummy, weighing some 
150 pounds, when thrown from the sixth floor, 
strikes the net with a force of 1750 pounds. It 
can be seen, therefore, that considerable strength 
must be exerted to keep a body weighing that 
much from striking the ground when jumping 
from so great a height. They have to jump about 
in a lively way to catch it, and if it does not land 
exactly in the middle of the net, or if it strikes 
the ground, they get a sound lecturing by the in- 


58 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


¥ 

structor, and are kept at it until they are able to 
catch it exactly in the middle of the net, and with¬ 
out any failures. 

This practically finishes the recruit’s lessons in 
the yard. On rainy days, or when it is too cold 
to work outdoors, he is taken to the gymnasium 
on the fifth floor, and there learns to handle the 
many devices used in the department. 

He is taught how to “couple” and “uncouple” 
(disconnect) hose; how to put into service “ cellar ” 
and “sub-cellar” pipes for fighting cellar fires; and 
the use of the “tin-cutter” for opening roofs. He 
learns about the battering-rams, axes, and hooks, 
and the hundred and one other appliances carried 
upon the liose-wagons and trucks. 

When his course in the school is finished, and he 
has received a percentage high enough to qualify 
him, he is “ passed ” by the instructor, and as¬ 
signed to some company in the service — usually 
to one in a busy district where he will have plenty 
of experience. Then his actual life as a fireman 
begins—an experience fraught with many dangers. 

But it is rarely that we find our firemen “ losing 
their heads”; and although raising a scaling-ladder 
to rescue some one amid the confusion and smoke 
of an actual fire is not at all like practice in the 



CATCHING A MAN IN THE “LIFE-NET.” 


















A SCHOOL FOR FIREMEN 


Gl 


quiet yard at headquarters, with a great big net 
stretched underneath to catch them should they 
fall, yet they are always ready and anxious to per¬ 
form such a duty. Knowing this, the people of a 
great city like New York may well be grateful to 
the graduates of this excellent school for firemen. 


AN ALARM OF FIRE BY TELEGRAPH 


u J alarm of fire by telegraph ! ” 



-L How much these few words suggest to 
the mind: the fright, the confusion, the destruc¬ 
tion of property, and the possible loss of life; the 
puffing engines and the shouting men, the crash¬ 
ing of glass and the splashing of water, and, per- 
* 

haps, finally the smoldering remains of a once 
comfortable home laid waste by nature’s most de¬ 
structive element — fire. 

All this is mentally pictured when we read the 
little technical phrase found in the daily ledger 
kept in every engine-house in New York City. 

This book, known as the “house-journal,” con¬ 
tains a record of all alarms of fire received, 
whether they are fires to which this particular 
company is called or not, and the exact moment 
that they were received. 

The movements of the officers and men are also 


AN ALARM OF FIRE BY TELEGRAPH 


03 


6.15 p. M. : Rec’d an alarm by tele¬ 
graph from Station 448. 

This is an alarm that has 
come over the wires, but from 
a box to which this particular 
company is not called. 

In this memorandum 448 is 
the number of the nre-alarm 
box from which the alarm was 
sent — they are known tech¬ 
nically as u stations.” 

This inscription is unsatisfac¬ 
tory and disappointing, for if 
we are interested we wish to 
know more about the fire and 

A STREET BOX. 

what happened there, so turn- SENDING IN AN ALARM. 



recorded here, the hour and minute of their leav¬ 
ing quarters each day for meals, and the time of 
their return; and an entry is made of any event 
pertaining to the workings of the department to 
which it may be necessary to refer at another time. 

If we look over the pages of one of these house- 
journals, we shall come to an 
inscription in red ink, reading 
like this: 








64 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


ing back a few pages we come to another entry 
that is more explanatory. It reads somewhat like 
the following: 

10.45 a. m. : Rec’d an alarm of fire by telegraph from 
Station 357. 

Proceeded with apparatus to double hydrant in front 
of No. 150 W. 16th St., and ascertained fire to be at No. 
143 West 16th St. 

Reported to Chief of 7th Batt., and was by him ordered 
to stretch line into basement of house, where a lj-inch 
stream was kept 10 minutes. 

Company’s services being no longer required, was or¬ 
dered to return to quarters. The following officers and 
men accompanied apparatus: . . . 

Then comes a list of the officers and men going 
to the fire, and of those who were absent, and a 
statement of why each one was absent, for a fire¬ 
man is held accountable for every moment of time 
while he is on duty, and his superior officer must 
know at all times when he is at a fire; and if he is 
not, the cause of his not being there. The above 
entry, like the other, is made in red ink, for all 
records of fires are made in that color, to separate 
them from the ordinary routine work, which is in¬ 
scribed in black. 


AN ALARM OF FIRE BY TELEGRAPH 


G5 



Few people living in our large cities, with the 
exception of those actively interested in tire mat¬ 
ters, know wliat careful records are kept of all 
fires, large or small, or how the movements of 
every company can he 
traced from the moment 
they leave their house in 
answer to an alarm, until 
their return, even to the 
smallest fraction of time. 

With the aid of the hook 
I have just mentioned, and 
another one called the u Fire 
Record Journal,” it is possi¬ 
ble to trace any particular 
tire,— to find out the exact 
moment the alarm was re¬ 
ceived for it; about how 
long it took the company keyless box, outside. 

"i "i xi i Showing the directions for 

to respond ; where the hy- opening the outer door and for 

sending an alarm. 

drant was situated from 

which they got their water; how many lengths of 
hose were used; how long the water was kept on 
the tire; how many gallons of water were con¬ 
sumed (approximately), and many other details. 
In a busy season, when tires are plenty, there is 














(36 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


as much clerical work required in the different 
engine-houses, to keep these books in order, as 
there would be in taking care of the books of a 
large business firm. 

Now, let us trace or follow up this particular 
alarm of fire from station 357 and find out why it 
was sent out, and how it was conveyed to the fire¬ 
men, and how they received it. This leads us into 
the mysteries of the “ Fire Alarm Telegraph Sys¬ 
tem,” without which the science of fire-fighting to¬ 
day— no matter how quick the horses, no matter 
how complete the apparatus, and no matter how 
eager the men to respond — would be utterly in¬ 
adequate. 

We will begin by examining the street boxes, or 
“ stations,” as they are called, since it is from them 
that the alarm is first sent. They are found on 
almost every other corner in New York City, or, 
at least, within three or four blocks of one another. 
As practically every city or town of any size in 
the United States has the same sort of boxes, most 
readers are probably Tvell acquainted with them, 
so we will examine only the u keyless box,” that is 
used extensively in New York City. 

This box forms part of a lamp-post, the post 
being so constructed that the box is inserted in 


AN ALARM OF FIRE BY TELEGRAPH 


07 



the middle. The box is painted a bright red, 
and the lamp at night shows a red light, thus 
making it easily dis¬ 
cernible either by 
day or night. The 
wires from the box 
are conveyed down 
through the center 
of the post to con¬ 
duits buried in the 
street, and thence on 
to fire headquarters. 

White letters on a 
red pane of glass, in 
the lamp over the 
box, give directions 
howto send an alarm, 

— the same direc¬ 
tions in raised letters 
are found on the face 
of the box. If we turn the large brass handle on 
the outside as far as it will go, a loud gong will ring 
inside. This is not the alarm, but simply a warn¬ 
ing bell to notify the policeman on the beat that 
the box is being opened and to prevent the send¬ 
ing in of malicious or false alarms of fire, an of- 


K.EYLESS BOX, OPENED. 
Showing the inner door, and hook. 

















08 


FIGHTING A FIRE 



fense that is punishable in New York State by a 
fine of $100 and one year’s imprisonment. Turn¬ 
ing this handle as far as it will go opens the outer 
door, and we find inside another door, with a slot 
at the left-hand side, and at the top of this slot a 
hook projecting. By pulling down this hook once 

and releasing it, we 
set at work certain 
clock-work mechan¬ 
ism inside, and this 
sends in the alarm. 

When the first of¬ 
ficer arriving at a 
fire discovers that it 
is of enough impor¬ 
tance to warrant his 
sending for rein¬ 
forcements, he opens 
this inner door and 
with the “ Morse 

key ” to be found in- 
«/ 

side he proceeds at 
once to send in a 
second, third, fourth, fifth, or sixth alarm, as the 
case may be, or a call for any special apparatus 
that he may need. The inspectors of boxes can 


KEYLESS BOX, INSIDE. 

The inner door opened, showing the cam 
or lever that operates the clockwork, and 
the Morse key and sounder for sending tele¬ 
graph messages to headquarters. 













AN ALARM OF FIRE BY TELEGRAPH 


G9 


also carry on a conversation in the Morse alphabet 
with the operator at headquarters on this key 
and sounder, so we find each box a miniature tele¬ 
graph station in itself. 

Let us examine the causes that led to the send¬ 
ing in of an alarm from box 357, and also what 
follows the pulling of the hook in one of these 
lamp-post boxes. 

A pan of grease frying on the kitchen range in 
the basement of a house in West Sixteenth Street 
boils over and sets fire to the floor. The servants, 
discovering the kitchen in flames, run screaming 
from the house. The owner, who happens to be 
up-stairs at the time, runs down, and seeing the 
light of fire reflected on the basement stairs, he 
dashes for the nearest fire-alarm box to send in 
an alarm. This box happens to be on the corner 
of Sixteenth Street and Seventh Avenue, half a 
block away. 

Turning the handle around, he opens the outer 
door, the warning bell rings, he pulls down the 
hook on the inside door once, and, releasing it, 
listens. What does he hear! The buzzing of 
machinery at first, and then “ ting, ting, ting! ” on 
a little bell inside. A pause, and “ ting, ting, ting, 
ting, ting ! ” Another pause, and then u ting, ting, 


70 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


ting, ting, ting, ting, ting! ” — 357, the number of 
the box. 

This is repeated five times in quick succession, 
and then the buzzing stops. The alarm has been 
sent. It may seem like an age to the owner of 
the burning premises as he stands there waiting 
for the firemen to appear, but it is a matter of 
only a few seconds; for within twenty seconds 
this station number is ringing in a score or more 
of engine-houses, and within one minute and a 
half after he releases the hook six companies of 
apparatus are on their way to this box. 

One minute has elapsed since he opened the 
box,— now a minute and a half. 

He looks up and down the avenue, and what 
does he see ? 

Turning into Seventh Avenue at the intersec¬ 
tion of Greenwich Avenue, five blocks to the south 
of where lie stands, a fire-engine appears, drawn 
by three plunging gray horses. As it straightens 
out in the broad avenue, they dash madly toward 
where he stands. A liose-wagon follows, filled 
with sturdy men donning rubber coats and fire- 
hats. The bells of both engine and wagon are 
ringing furiously, and the whistle of the former 
keeps up a series of short shrieks. 


A FIRE-ENGINE APPEARS, DRAWN BY THREE PLUNGING GRAY HORSES 









AN ALARM OF FIRE BY TELEGRAPH 


73 


It is truly an inspiring sight, and lie almost for¬ 
gets the destruction that threatens his home in the 
excitement of the scene. 

As he looks up the avenue he sees approaching 
from Twentieth Street, four blocks to the north, 
another apparatus — a heavy affair that sways 
from side to side as it swings from one car-track 
to another. This is a “ truck ” or liook-and-ladder 
company, and it is preceded by a light wagon 
containing two men, one driving, while the other 
looks eagerly ahead for the appearance of fire. 
This is the chief of the 7th Battalion, who after¬ 
ward has charge of the fire. Whistles and bells 
in the two adjoining streets to the north of him 
tell of the approach of more engines. One is com¬ 
ing from the east, the other from the west. The 
engine approaching from the east turns the corner 
of Eighteenth Street, two blocks above, just as the 
one coming from the south is over a block away. 
It is now a mad race between the two to see which 
will first reach the box. The one approaching 
from the south has the advantage of a clear run 
up the avenue, however, and arrives at the corner 
before the other. The man at the box indicates 
by pointing to his home the location of the fire, 
and the driver of this engine, who knows the hy- 


74 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


drants in his district as well as lie knows the sta¬ 
tions, turns the corner on a run and pulls his 
horses up beside a hydrant nearly opposite the 
tire. 

Another truck company has followed this first 
appearing engine, also coming from the south. 
Another battalion chief has turned the comer of 
Fourteenth Street, coming from the east, and fol¬ 
lowing him a strange-looking apparatus — a four- 
wheeled wagon, carrying what one might almost 
call an enormous cannon with an inverted muzzle: 
this is a u water-tower.” Still another detachment 
dashes toward the box from the north. This 
is a big red wagon drawn by two noble animals 
that are covering the ground with great leaps. It 
is filled with men wearing white rubber coats and 
red fire-hats. This is a section of the fire-insur¬ 
ance patrol, and they come to protect property 
from damage by water, and to save what they can. 
The third engine, coming from the west, follows 
and pulls up at a hydrant on the corner, and 
“ awaits orders.” 

The first company to arrive have rushed into 
the basement with their hose. The engine is at 
work in an instant, and a few dashes of water ex¬ 
tinguish the fire. The fire-insurance patrolmen 


THE ENGINE APPllOACIIING FROM THE EAST TURNS THE CORNER. 


« 








AN ALARM OF FIRE BY TELEGRAPH 


77 


go through the building, opening windows to let 
the smoke escape, and ascertain the amount of 
damage done. Members of the first truck com¬ 
pany to arrive assist the men from the engine 
company in putting out any remaining traces of 
fire, by pulling down woodwork, plaster, etc., in 
the kitchen. The other companies stand ready to 
get to work until ordered “to quarters” by the 
battalion chief; and soon there is little evidence 
of a fire beyond a wet pavement and a badly 
wrecked kitchen. 

In reviewing the events that have followed the 
pulling of the hook in this box, we find that within 
three minutes from the time the alarm was sent 
in, an engine and a truck company were on hand. 
In two minutes more three other companies had 
arrived, and in exactly seven minutes from the 
instant the hook was pulled down, three engine 
companies, two liook-and-ladder companies, a wa¬ 
ter-tower, and a section of the fire-patrol, with 
two battalion chiefs, were on the spot, and ready 
to go to work. In all, about fifty-five men, with 
ten pieces of apparatus — a small fire department 
in itself. 

This is not remarkable; for if we consider that 
there are, on an average, from ten to fifteen alarms 


78 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


of lire a day in New York City, we can realize 
what an ordinary event this becomes. It is partly 
due to the efficiency of the fire-alarm telegraph 
system that this rapid concentration of fire forces 
is possible. Let us visit fire headquarters in East 
Sixty-seventli Street, and see how the alarms are 
received and sent out. 

We find the telegraph bureau a large, well- 
lighted room on the sixth floor of the building. 
In the middle of this room is a raised platform, 
perhaps a foot in height; and this platform is sur¬ 
rounded on three sides by cabinet-work, almost 
like immense bookcases, and reaching nearly to 
the ceiling. A passageway on both sides of this 
cabinet-work makes the back easily accessible; 
and an entrance through the middle leads to the 
battery-room in the rear of the bureau. There is 
a post in the center of this passageway studded 
with “push-buttons,” and within this three-sided 
inclosure are the various delicate and intricate 
machines for receiving and recording the alarms, 
most of the instruments being protected from in¬ 
jury or dust by cases of glass. 

The face of the cabinet-work on both sides is 
filled with keys, sounders, switches, and all man¬ 
ner of electrical devices for receiving and trails- 


HOOK-AND-LADDER COMPANY. 






























AN ALARM OF FIRE BY TELEGRAPH 


81 


i nit ting alarms of fire, and all tlie private telegraph 
signals used in the work of the fire department. 

An operator comes forward, and under his guid¬ 
ance we will look into the methods of attending 
to a most important branch of the fire service — 
that of receiving and recording an alarm of fire 
from a street box, and transmitting the same to 
the engine companies nearest to the fire, in the 
shortest possible time. We are first to see the 
“register,” or machine that records the alarm as 
it comes in from the street box. This machine 
not only indicates the pulling of a fire-alarm box 
by clicking off the number of the station, but 
prints it upon an endless tape of paper about a 
foot wide. 

We find a station recorded thus: 

" — — — — — — — — — — — Station 147. 

14 ( 

If we examine this machine closely we shall 
find five oblong vulcanite (or hard-rubber) cases 
back of that part that does the printing. Each of 
these little cases contains ten sounders, and each 
sounder represents a circuit. There are from ten 
to fifty boxes on each circuit, so that this machine 
records the alarms from over a thousand boxes! 




82 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


A delicate steel rod connects each sounder with 
a little brass elbow-joint that does the printing, 
somewhat like the key of a type-writing machine. 
As each click or pulsation of electricity comes 
through a sounder, this little rod is pulled back. 
It depresses the elbow-joint, and this prints a dash 
upon the paper. There are fifty of these little 
elbow-joints all in a line, one for each circuit, so 
that boxes on different circuits print upon differ¬ 
ent parts of the paper. 

We can better understand a “circuit” if we im¬ 
agine a long wire reaching, say, to the Battery — 
five miles away — and returning to headquarters. 
Branch wires running from this main line connect 
with boxes at different places along the way. No 
two adjacent boxes are put on the same circuit. 
Thus we find a circuit connected with a box at 
Fifty-eighth Street and Broadway, and the next 

box on the same line is at Forty-sixth Street 

•/ 

and Eighth Avenue, twelve blocks away. This 
is to prevent the possibility of two boxes on the 
same circuit, or wire, being pulled at once for 
the same fire. 

This delicate and ingenious instrument prevents 
the possibility of confusion of this kind occurring, 
for even if two stations were to “ click ” off at the 


WATER-TOWER 












AN ALARM OF FIRE BY TELEGRAPH 


85 


same time, although it might not be possible to 
count the clicks, the numbers of the boxes, being 
on different circuits, will be found printed clear 
and distinct on different parts of the paper. The 
operator, divining that both have been pulled for 
the same fire, sends out only one on the combina¬ 
tion key. 

In an earlier part of the book, I have described 
the instruments in the engine-houses and the work 
that they perform, but I will repeat part of that 
description, that we may better understand the 
methods employed in sending out an alarm after 
it has been received on the register. 

In every engine-house there is a small bell that 
begins to ring off the alarm as it comes in. This 
is called the “combination,” because it not only 
tells the number of the box, but it allows a 
weight to fall that springs a “ trip,” or lever, which 
in turn releases ‘ the horses. Shortly after this 
begins, a very large gong rings out the station 
number in loud strokes. Should the firemen fail 
to count the strokes of the small bell, they cannot 
fail to count those of the big gong. In the illus¬ 
tration on page 5 the “ combination,” the “ trip,” 
and the big gong will be found assembled in their 
relative positions. 


86 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


We will now go back to the telegraph bureau 
and see how these strokes are sent to the engine- 
houses. We will first look at another instrument 
or two before we imagine an alarm to come in, 
that we may better understand what is being 
done. 

All along the side where the register stands are 
a number of telegraph keys, one for every circuit 
— sixty in all, there being ten extra circuits be¬ 
sides those connected with the register. They are 
similar to the keys in every telegraph office. In 
the corner, on the same side, there are eight extra 
keys. These operate the “ combination circuits,” 
the engine-houses being on circuits just as the 
boxes are. With these the operator rings the com¬ 
bination bell that I have just described. Above 
each there is a large push-button not unlike a stop 
in an organ. A number is on the face of each, 
and they represent the circuits controlled by the 
keys. A large hand-lever also is here, which 
throws on an extra heavy current of electricity 
whenever it is necessary to use these circuits, a 
light current only being kept on them at all other 
times. 

Toward the front of the platform, and near the 
right-hand side of the inclosure, stands another 


GENERAL VIEW OF TIIE FIRE-ALARM TELEGRAPH HEADQUARTERS. 










AN ALARM OF FIRE BY TELEGRAPH 


89 


machine, a most important one. It stands upon 
a cabinet or pedestal of its own, and this machine, 
called “the repeater,” controls the ringing of the 
big gongs in the engine-houses. It is carefully 
inclosed in a glass case on all sides except that 
facing the register. Here there is a small round 
opening near the bottom, through which projects 
the shaft of one of the larger wheels of the ma¬ 
chine. A brass disk, or “button,” is pushed on 
this shaft when an alarm is being sent out, and 
this button controls the number of strokes that 
this instrument rings upon the big gongs. 

In the center of the platform, and directly at 
the front, stands another machine that is really a 
wonderful piece of mechanism—a tall, upright in¬ 
strument, also inclosed in a glass case. Theye are 
four disks or circles to be seen on the front of it, 
three in a row and one directly in the middle, over 
the three. Each circle consists of four wheels, one 
on top of the other. These wheels 
are so numbered on their rims 
that by moving them around any 
combination of figures can be 
made. For example, by moving 
the first three wheels around until 
2 shows on the fourth, or last; the *' KOM THE SPECIAL 




90 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


second wheel around until 3 shows on the third, 
and the first around until 4 shows on the second 
wheel, we get 234, the wheels moving from left 
to right, and the last, or bottom, wheel showing 
the first number. Beside the upper or top circle 
there is a pointer resting upon a dial numbered 
from 1 to 5. This pointer controls the number of 
rounds sent out by this machine. By setting it at 
figure 2 upon the dial, and pressing it down, after 
we have set the combination of numbers men¬ 
tioned above, this instrument will send out two 
rounds of “ 234 ” to all the engine-houses. 

This instrument, called the “ transmitter,” is used 
for sending out the second, third, fourth, fifth, 
and sixth alarms, and all the special calls used 
in the service, and can be used for transmitting 
all regular alarms in case the other instrument 
breaks down. It is connected by the “ big-gong ” 
circuit with all the companies in the department, 
and any combination of strokes on the large 
gongs can be rung with this instrument. It is 
entirely automatic, and, after the numbers are 
properly set on the wheels, never makes any mis¬ 
takes, and is really the most important and in¬ 
genious machine in the bureau. 

Having thus seen all the principal instruments, 



THE REGISTER. 

This marvelous instrument registers tlie alarms from more 
than 1000 boxes. The paper on which the box numbers are writ¬ 
ten is 10 inches wide and is run through the register by a system 
of clock-work. The “pens” that do the writing hit the paper 
where it passes through the instrument at the highest part, print¬ 
ing a long, black dash at each click of the sounder. Inside the 
glass case covering the register, and at the lower left-hand 
corner, can be seen some of the clock-work machinery that starts 
the paper moving when an alarm begins to come in. The bright, 
V-shaped metal pieces, seen at the back of the case and above 
the instrument, are the switches controlling the circuits connected 
with the register. On top of the case is a little easel holding cards 
bearing the number of the last alarm that has come in —in this 
instance from box No. 147. Another register, an exact duplicate 
of this one, is located in a corner of the platform near the combi¬ 
nation keys. Should anything happen to the one described above, 
the wires coming from the boxes can be switched into this “ re¬ 
serve register ” in an instant, thus insuring the bureau against 
failures in receiving the alarms. 











AN ALARM OF FIRE BY TELEGRAPH 


93 


and understanding their uses, we will now see 
what happens when an alarm comes in. 

An operator sits at a desk in the middle of 
the platform, answering and attending to the tel¬ 
ephone calls coming from the different engine- 
houses, for this desk is the “ central office ” of the 
department. Another operator moves about in 
front of the “switchboard” on the other side of 
the platform, testing the strength of currents on 
the different circuits, etc. There are always two 
operators on duty, sometimes three, night and day. 
They work in shifts, or “ tours,” as they are 
called, of eight hours each, three tours making up 
the day. 

Suddenly there comes a buzzing of machinery 
in the direction of the register, followed by a loud 
“ click,” a pause and four more clicks, another 
pause and seven more clicks,—147, the station I 
have already mentioned. 

This is repeated five times, the number of 
rounds the box sends in; but before the first 
round has clicked off, the operator at the desk 
has stepped quickly to the register. He glances 
at the tape. He turns as quickly from this to a 
cabinet in the center of the platform and at the 
back of the telephone desk, and opens a drawer. 


94 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


This cabinet is made up of wide, shallow drawers, 
and as he opens this one, we see that it is full of 
rows of little brass disks about two inches in 
diameter and a quarter of an inch thick, each 

resting over a wooden peg that is 
fastened to the bottom of the 
drawer. These are the disks, or 
“buttons,” that operate the re¬ 
peater, or big-gong instrument. 
a repeater button. Ti iere is one for every station, 

or box, each one cut differently; and as there 
are ten or eleven hundred boxes, it can be seen 
how many there must be. 

He takes out the one bearing the number of the 
station that has just come in —147 — and passes 
it to the other operator, who by this time stands 
beside the repeater. With this disk there are two 
others, made of cardboard, also bearing the num¬ 
ber of the station and having beneath two rows 
of figures. These figures are the numbers of the 
circuits or wires over which this alarm has not to 
be sent. He passes one to the operator beside the 
repeater, and, retaining the other, he steps quickly 
over to the “combination keys,” and pushing down 
the lever that throws on an extra-heavy current 
of electricity, with a firm, quick touch he sends in 
the alarm to the companies nearest the fire. 




THE REPEATER. 

This instrument, like the transmitter, is run by clock-work oper¬ 
ated by a system of weights placed underneath the cabinet it stands 
upon. The handle to wind it up can be seen at the right-hand end 
of the glass case covering it. The button that sends out the required 
number of taps over the “big gong” circuits is pushed on a central 
shaft through the round openings seen in the front of the glass 
case. These buttons are held upon this shaft by a tweezer-like 
spring surrounding the same. 

The wires shown in the illustration at the back of the instrument 
connect the cylinders that revolve when the machine is at work 
with the “big gong’s” circuits. The telephones throughout the de¬ 
partment also receive the alarm by means of one of these cylinders, 
and should you happen to be in an engine-house when this instru¬ 
ment is at work, and the alarm does not come in on either the 
“ combination ” or the “ big gong,” you will hear the tiny telephone 
bells strike the number of the box with the slow, measured tap 
of the big gong. 












AN ALARM OF FIRE BY TELEGRAPH 


97 


When he has sent in two rounds, or the number 
of the box twice, his fellow-operator at the re¬ 
peater pushes the little brass disk that he holds 
in his hand on the shaft that projects through the 
round opening in the glass case of the latter in¬ 
strument, and pressing a push-button, it begins 
to revolve. As we watch it revolving we see the 
first little projection on the rim of the disk press 
against a steel spring beside the shaft, long enough 
to let one pulsation of electricity pass through the 
machine. This allows some small cylinders at the 
top to revolve once. This means one stroke on 
the big gongs in the engine-houses. When the 
second projection reaches this spring it keeps it 
back long enough for four revolutions of the 
cylinders,— that means four strokes on the big- 
gongs,— and the last and largest projection allows 
the cylinders to revolve seven times, meaning 
seven strokes, thus completing the number. 

This button, or disk, revolves twice, sending out 
two rounds of the signal. In the meantime, the 
other operator has sent out two more rounds on 
the combination key, so that the firemen respond¬ 
ing to this box receive the number of the station 
six different times and on two instruments, leaving- 
little chance for mistakes. 


98 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


Before the operator sends out the first stroke on 
the combination key, with a rapid movement he 
pulls out the large “stops” or push-buttons con¬ 
trolling the circuits over which the alarm is not to 
be sent. This leaves the companies on these cir¬ 
cuits in comparative quiet, they receiving the 
alarm only on the telephone, of which no official 
notice is taken. There are some eighty-two or 
more engine and hook-and-ladder companies in 
New York city, distributed over a distance of 
fifteen miles, so it would be manifestly absurd to 
arouse them all for fires to which, perhaps, many 
of these companies would not be called even if 
they proved serious. By this system of having 
the engine-houses on circuits, only those in the 
immediate neighborhood of the fire are notified, 
with perhaps a few scattering companies who 
happen to be on the same wires. 

In sending out an alarm in this manner, every¬ 
thing is done very quickly — more quickly than it 
can be described. Not a word is spoken. Con¬ 
versation of any kind might cause a mistake that 
would result in the possible loss of many lives and 
valuable property. Each operator knows exactly 
what he has to do, and does it silently and quickly, 
and it is estimated, by careful timing, that an 



THE “TRANSMITTER.” 

This might be called the most important instrument in 
the bureau, inasmuch as it can be depended upon to send 
out any and all of the alarms received at headquarters. 
Any combination of figures can be arranged upon these 
wheels, from 1 to 999. In sending out a set of signals with 
this instrument the wheel at the left-hand side begins to 
revolve first, the others following in the order of their 
arrangement, the wheel at the top revolving last. This 
Instrument is also run by clock-work. 









AN ALARM OF FIRE BY TELEGRAPH 


101 


alarm can be received and sent out by this method 
inside of nine seconds, and this from a box having 
a long number, so that very little time is lost. 

Even in the case of a large fire, when one alarm 
follows another at the most rapid rate, there is 
little confusion, if any at all. A visitor to the 
bureau would scarcely realize that an alarm had 
been received and sent out until it was all over, so 
systematically is everything done. 

When the operator at the combination has fin¬ 
ished his task, he turns to a large book beside 
him and ascertains the numbers of the companies 
who respond to that box. This book is called the 
“ assignment book,” and is issued for the benefit 

of the different companies of the department; for 

» 

it tells the number of each box, and its location, 
and the companies that are “ assigned” or ex¬ 
pected to respond to that particular box, on the 
first, second, third, fourth, and fifth alarms; also 
the order in which they are supposed to arrive. 
Having found the numbers of the companies “due” 
upon this station, the operator turns to the post 
in the middle of the platform, and, under the row 
of push-buttons headed “Out,” he pushes in the 
numbers of Engine Companies 31, 55, and 12, and 
Hook-and-Ladder Companies 6 and 8, and Water 


102 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


Tower No. 1, thus putting them “out of service.” 
This means that they have left their respective 
quarters, and cannot be depended upon to respond 
to any other alarms that might come in from their 
district. As he pushes in these buttons, little 
round disks bearing similar numbers drop down 
in an annunciator at the top of the cabinet-work 
over the switchboard. 

By referring to this annunciator the operator 
can tell at any time just what companies are “ out 
of service,” and should other alarms come in from 
their neighborhood while they are “out of quar¬ 
ters,” he will have other companies respond. 
When the companies return from a fire the Morse 
instruments announce tlieiv return by a series of 
little clicks. This is the captain or officer in 
charge sending in his “ return taps,” or “ three- 
fours,” as they are known technically, that is, 4-4-4 
and the number of the company, thus informing 
the bureau that his company is back in quarters 
once more, and ready to respond to other alarms. 
The operator replies, “2-3,” meaning “all right,” 
on the Morse key, and then, turning to the push¬ 
button post, under the heading “ In,” pushes them 
back “in service” again. Shortly afterward the 
officer in charge of the fire calls the operator up 



THE OPERATOR SENDING OUT AN ALARM ON THE 


“ COMBINATION.” 












AN ALARM OF FIRE BY TELEGRAPH 


105 


on the telephone, and tells him the location of the 
fire and amount of damage to building and stock 
or furniture. This account is afterward entered 
in a “ journal ” kept in the bureau, and three 
copies are sent down to the commissioners’ rooms, 
where records are kept of all fires, no matter how 
slight. 

This finishes the routine work in this bureau of 
receiving and transmitting “an alarm of fire by 
telegraph.” The operation is gone through ten or 
fifteen times a day — some days less, others many 
more. In the dead of night, in the early hours 
of the morning, while we are sleeping, eating, at 
work or at play, the operator is always here, wide 
awake, and ever on the alert — ready to answer 
the call for help that may come from the “ little 
red box,” and to send it on to those who will aid 
us in saving our homes from destruction and ruin. 

After this, when we see a fire company respond¬ 
ing to the call of duty, we shall better appreciate 
the methods that have been used to send them on 
their noble errand. And when we glance through 
the pages of a metropolitan engine company’s 
u house-journal,” we shall better understand how 
much meaning is hidden beneath that little phrase 
—“ an alarm of fire by telegraph.” 


THE RISKS OF A FIREMAN’S LIFE. 


F ^EE risks and dangers that firemen face in the 



JL discharge of their duty are known to very 
few. The outside world — the public at large — 
hears little or nothing of them. Fires, in a large 
city like New York, are of such common occur- 
rence that the newspapers rarely give them more 
than a paragraphic notice; and, in fact, all accounts 
of fires to-day are condensed so as to occupy the 
smallest possible space. Of course conflagrations of 
any magnitude receive their share of recognition 
in the columns of the daily papers; and the papers 
are never stinting in the praise they give the fire¬ 
men for the brave and skilful work that they per¬ 
form ; but the Fire Departments throughout all our 
large cities are so perfectly organized to-day that 
the “large fire” does not often occur, and detailed 
accounts are therefore seldom found in the papers. 

When we see a fire company dashing on its way 


THE RISKS OF A FIREMAN’S LIFE 


107 


in answer to an alarm, we stop to admire the stir¬ 
ring picture that it presents. Instinctively we 
look in the direction in which it is proceeding for 
the appearance of smoke, if it be daytime, or the 
glare of the flames, if it be at night, to indicate the 
location of the fire. We perhaps see none, and 
pass on our way; and in the whirl of city life this 
incident is soon forgotten. And yet this company 
may return with many of its members bruised and 
sore, while others are perhaps conveyed to near-by 
hospitals, mortally wounded. It is not always the 
fire that makes the biggest show that is the hard¬ 
est to fight. The fire that goes roaring through 
the roof of a building, lighting up the city for 
miles around, is sometimes much more easily sub¬ 
dued than the dull, smoky cellar or sub-cellar fire 
that forces the men to face the severest kind of 
u punishment,” the effects of which are felt for 
weeks afterward, before it is controlled. 

At a sub-cellar fire that occurred one night, a few 
years ago, on lower Broadway, I saw over a dozen 
men laid out on the sidewalk, overcome by the 
smoke. A gruesome sight it was, too, with * the 
dim figures of the ambulance surgeons, lanterns in 
hand, working over them, and the thick smoke for 
a background. 


108 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


These were brave fellows who had dashed in 
with the lines of hose, only to be dragged out 
afterward by their comrades, nearly suffocated by 
the thick, stifling smoke that poured in volumes 
from every opening in the basement. Over one 
hundred and fifty feet of “ dead-lights,” or grating, 
over the sidewalk had to be broken in that night 
before the cellars were relieved sufficiently of the 
smoke with which they were charged, to allow the 
men to go in and extinguish the fire. This re¬ 
quired the combined work of the crews of five 
liook-and-ladder companies, who broke in the iron¬ 
work with the butt-ends of their axes — the 
hardest kind of work. But the newspapers the 
following morning gave this fire only a ten- or 
twelve-line notice, mentioning the location and 
the estimated loss, and adding that “it was a 
severe fire to subdue.” No word of the punish¬ 
ment and suffering the men were forced to face 
before this fire was under control; no mention of 
the dash after dash into the cellar with the heavy 
line of hose, only to be driven back to the street 
by the smoke, or to be dragged out afterward 
nearly unconscious; nor of the thud after thud 
with the heavy axes on the thick iron grating 
that required twenty or thirty blows before any 


ATTACKING A FIRE IN A SUB-CELLAR, 



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THE RISKS OF A FIREMAN’S LIFE 


111 


impression could be made on it. This was mus¬ 
cle-straining, lung-taxing work that the average 
man has to face only once in a lifetime; but the 
firemen in a large city have it always before them; 
and each tap on the telegraph may mean the sig¬ 
nal to summon them to a task that requires the 
utmost strength and nerve. 

While speaking of cellar fires, let me relate an 
incident that happened to some companies in the 
down-town district at a fire of this description. It 
occurred in Barclay street, in the sub-cellar of a 
crockery and glass warehouse, amid the straw 
used to pack the glassware. It sent forth a dense, 
stifling smoke, and was an ugly fire to fight. I 
will relate it in the rather characteristic way in 
which it was told me by a fireman in one of the 
companies that were summoned to subdue it. The 
story gives an idea of what the firemen in the busi¬ 
ness part of a big city may have to face at any time. 

“The station came in one night at 11:30. We 
rolled, and found the fire in Barclay street, in a 
crockery warehouse — burning straw, jute, excel¬ 
sior, and all that sort of stuff in the sub-cellar. 
Smoke ? I never saw such smoke since I’ve been 
in the business. We went through the building, 
and found the fire had n’t got above the cellar. 


112 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


We tried to get the line down the cellar stairs, 
but it was no use. No one could live on that 
stairway for a minute. The chief then divided us 
up, sent out a second [a second alarm], and we 
sailed in to drown it out; 27 engine got the rear; 
7 engine the stairway, to keep it from coming up; 
and our company, 29, got the front. We pried 
open the iron cellar doors on the pavement, only 
to find that the elevator, used to carry freight to 
the bottom, had been run up to the top. Here 
were four inches of Georgia pine to cut through! 
And phew! such work in such smoke! Well, we 
got through this, opened it up, and — out it all 
came! No flames, just smoke, and with force 
enough to suffocate a man in a second. We 
backed out to the gutter and got a little fresh air 
in our lungs, and went at it again. We brought 
a 35-foot ladder over from the truck and lowered 
it through this opening, and found we could nH 
touch bottom! A 45-foot ladder was put down, 
and only three rungs remained above the side- 
Avalk; this showed that there was over forty feet 
of cellar and sub-cellar! And down in this place 
we had to go with the line. Well, the sooner we 
got at it the sooner it was over; so, shifting the 
line over the top rung of the ladder, so it would n’t 


THE RISKS OF A FIREMAN’S LIFE 113 

get caught, down we started. It was only forty 
feet, hut I can tell you it seemed like three hun¬ 
dred and forty before we got to the bottom. Of 
course, when we got there it was n’t so bad; the 
smoke lifted, and gave us a corner in the cellar 
shaft where we could work, and we soon drove 
the fire away to the rear and out; but going down 
we got a dose of smoke we ’ll all remember to our 
last days.” 

The company working in the rear fared even 
worse than the other. They had to descend into 
a narrow court only four feet wide, about twenty- 
five feet long (the width of the building), and 
forty feet deep, merely a shaft to give light and 

air to the cellar and sub-cellar. When the com- 

% 

pany in the front got to work, they drove the fire 
to the rear with such violence that this company 
was compelled to ascend rapidly to the street floor 
to save their lives. 

Next to a dangerous cellar fire nothing is more 
dreaded by the men than what is known in their 
own language as the “ back-draft.” This is a sud¬ 
den veering of the flames, usually caused by the 
burning away of some portion of the building 
that gives the fire renewed draft, and changes its 
course completely. 


8 


114 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


The firemen arrive and find the whole second 
or third floor of a building in flames. Axes in 
hand, they smash open the doors, and with the 
hose dash up the stairway. This is all afire, and 
the flames are rolling above like a red pall. With 
the engine at work and good pressure on the line, 
the battle between the two elements, fire and 
water, begins. Inch by inch the men fight their 
way up the stairway, now to retreat as the fire 
gains upon them, and now to advance as it rolls 
away for a moment. The encouraging words of 
the commanding officer are heard behind them 
urging them on: “ Now, get in, boys ! That’s it 
— get in — get in ! Make the next landing! Hit 
it up, boys! ” and all the other words of encour¬ 
agement that he usually gives. 

They finally reach the landing. They are on 
the floor with the fire. It rolls away from them. 
They drive it further back. Encouraged by their 
seeming victory, they drag up more of the heavy 
hose to make a final dash at it, when suddenly 
something falls in at the rear of the fire and gives 
it renewed draft. It rolls toward them, an im¬ 
penetrable wall of fire — the deadly back-draft! 
Their only chance of escape is to throw them¬ 
selves upon their faces, in hope that it may roil 


A LEAP FOR LIFE 











THE RISKS OF A FIREMAN’S LIFE 


117 


over them, or to liurl themselves down the stairs 
up which they have so gallantly fought their way. 
Better a broken leg or arm than death by roast¬ 
ing; and the water of fifty engines could never 
stay the progress of that awful wave of flame. 

Many a brave fellow has lost his life in this 
manner; and very often all the members of a 
company return with their eyebrows, hair, and 
beard singed off, bearing evidence that they have 
been “ ketclied,” as they express it, by a less ter¬ 
rible form of this deadly draft. 

Another kind of back-draft that is greatly 
dreaded takes the form of an explosion, and is 
usually met with in fires in storage-houses and 
large warehouses that have been closed up tight 
for some time. A fire breaks out in such a build¬ 
ing, and, as a rule, has been smoldering for some 
time before it is discovered. The firemen are sum¬ 
moned, and, raising a ladder, they pry open an 
iron shutter or break in a door to get at the fire. 
The combustion going on within the building has 
generated a gas; and the moment the air gets to 
this, through the breaking open of the door or 
window, the mixture ignites. An explosion fol¬ 
lows, and a portion or the whole of the front of 
the building is destroyed. Several accidents of 


118 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


this kind have occurred in New York — one in a 
storage-warehouse in West Thirty-ninth street 
a few years ago, when the whole front was blown 
out, hurling the firemen from the ladders, and se¬ 
verely injuring a large number. Another accident 
of the same nature occurred shortly after this, in 
a large wholesale hour-warehouse down-town. In 
this case it was supposed that particles of flour 
in the air inside the warehouse became ignited 
and exploded; but it was practically another case 
of the back-draft. Several firemen were maimed 
and injured in this case. 

Now much greater caution is exercised in “open¬ 
ing up ” buildings of this kind when a fire breaks 
out in them; and to-day the back-draft is of rare 
occurrence, though any alarm may bring the fire¬ 
men face to face with it. 

The falling wall is another danger with which 
the firemen have to contend in fighting a fire, 
although it can truly be said that, like the big 
fire, this difficulty is not often met with to-day. 
Modern buildings do not crumble away as some 
used to in the fires of ten or fifteen years ago, and 
the up-to-date fire-proof building may be entirely 
gutted inside while the walls remain intact. It 
may seem strange to speak of a fire-proof building 


THE RISKS OF A FIREMAN’S LIFE 


119 


being burned out, but experience lias taught the 
firemen not to put too much confidence in such 
structures, for it has been shown that many of 
them are really not so “fire-proof” as their builders 
had imagined. 

There are several kinds of falling walls, and the 
fireman of experience knows them well, and what 
to expect from each. There is one kind that 
breaks first at the bottom and comes down almost 
straight, somewhat like a curtain. This makes a 
big noise, but is not very much to be dreaded. 
Then there is another that bulges or “ buckles ” in 
the middle at first, and makes a sort of curve as it 
descends. This is always more serious than the 
first, and has caused many fatalities. Then there 
is one that breaks at the bottom and comes straight 
out, reaching clear across the street, and remaining 
almost solid until it strikes; and, as an old-time 
fireman once remarked: “ That ’s the kind you 
want to dodge.” 

This kind of “ falling wall ” has caused more of 
the deaths in the department than any other danger 
the firemen have to contend with. It has killed 
horses as well as men, and destroyed apparatus; 
and it falls so rapidly, and covers so much space, 
that to escape it the men have to be quick indeed. 


120 


FIGHTING A FIFE 


Fires in warehouses filled with drugs and paints 
always mean grave danger to the firemen. Fires 
occur in them quite frequently, usually caused by 
spontaneous combustion or through the vaporiza¬ 
tion of some of the many oils or chemicals stored 
in the buildings. They make dangerous fires to 
fight, the carboys of different acids being packed 
in salt hay or straw that makes a dense smoke ; and 
this smoke is sometimes charged with the fumes of 
some acid, the combination forming a most deadly 
mixture to breathe. Still, fires of this kind must 
be fought as bravely as fires amid less dangerous 
surroundings, for the very nature of the contents 
makes it imperative that the fire be extinguished 
as soon as possible; and the greatest personal risk 
is sometimes taken in getting these fires under 
control. 

The firemen often work in the cellars of these 
buildings surrounded on every hand by cases or 
barrels of oils and chemicals of the most inflamma¬ 
ble kind, fighting the fire back, inch by inch, until 
it is finally conquered. Sometimes they can remain 
in such situations for only a few moments at a time: 
and then the exhausted men retreat to the street, 
while a fresh squad or company take their places. 

They cannot afford to give the fire a chance to 


GOING TO A FIRE IN A BLIZZARD. 







THE RISKS OF A FIREMAN’S LIFE 


123 


gain the slightest headway, for should it reach the 
dangerous material around them an explosion would 
follow, probably killing every one in the cellar. So 
it is fought stubbornly and persistently until under 
control; but none but men of indomitable courage 
will face such risks, and the heroes who engage in 
this perilous work receive scant recognition of their 
bravery. Outside of their companions little is 
known of their deeds of valor, and they themselves 
scarcely give them a second thought, for in the 
routine of their work risks are taken in every fire, 
and the fact that the risks have been greater in a 
fire of this kind does not impress them especially— 
they know they have been in a perilous position, 
have faced death in a terrible form, have made a 
good fight of it and come out victors—there it 
ends. 

It is not alone in saving lives from fire that the 
firemen show of what heroic stuff they are made; 
in the simple discharge of their daily duty they are 
often forced to risk life over and over again in 
deeds of daring about which we hear little — deeds 
that are repeated at almost every serious fire to 
which they are called. 

The advent of winter brings with it additional 
dangers and hardships for the firemen. Fires 


124 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


are much more numerous during extremely cold 
weather, and fire-duty is usually very trying 
throughout the winter months. This excess of 
fires can be traced to overheated furnaces and 
stoves, fires being built carelessly and in places not 
much used, and attempts made to warm apart¬ 
ments that perhaps it would not be necessary to 
heat at anv other time. The fire record during an 
unusually cold spell rises to from twenty-five to 
forty fires per day in New York city, and this 
keeps the firemen ever “on the jump.” 

All the serious fires seem to occur on bitterly 
cold days or nights, and the suffering of the men 
working at such fires is very great. To work out 
of doors in a freezing temperature is not very 
pleasant under any circumstances; but to work in 
water and with water while exposed to the bitter 
cold is more than disagreeable. 

To stand upon the peak of a ladder at perhaps 
the third or fourth story of a building,, direct¬ 
ing the stream of water at the blazing interior, 
while the thermometer is at about its lowest point, 
is not a comfortable task. Perhaps another stream 
is playing over your head, and you stand in an icy 
spray. Icicles hang from every point of your fire- 
hat, while the rubber coat is frozen to your back; 


THE RISKS OF A FIREMAN'S LIFE 


125 


and the water that is falling about you freezes as 
fast as it falls. Every movement upon the ladder 
is fraught with danger, for it is so incrusted with 
ice that it is almost impossible to get a solid foot¬ 
hold, and a misstep would hurl you to the ground, 
forty feet below. 

c- 

Such is the experience of nearly every fireman 
during the winter months; and although “ ladder- 
work n has been done away with to some extent of 
late years in the big cities, still the men are likely 
to be called upon to perform such work at almost 
any severe fire, should the construction of the 
building require it. 

The firemen find it difficult to get any sort of 
gloves that will protect their hands in the extreme 
winter-weather. A woolen glove of any description 
is saturated with water almost immediately and 
freezes stiff; while one made of leather soon gets 
into a condition nearly as bad, and when dry be¬ 
comes as hard as iron. They are, therefore, forced 
to handle the hose with bare hands, no matter how 
bitter the weather, and “ picking up ” or stowing 
the hose away in the hose-wagons after a fire is 
over, becomes most painful work. The different 
lengths of hose have to be dragged up to the wagon 
through an icy slush, and sometimes they freeze 


126 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


perfectly stiff the instant the water is turned off at 
the ^engine. To get them stowed away in the new 
hose-wagons (where they are folded and laid in 
lengths), or wound upon the reels in the liose-car- 
riages, exposes the men to the severest kind of 
punishment. Their hands become completely numb 
and helpless from handling the ice-clad pipe; and 
the metal connections, cold to many degrees below 
freezing, almost sear their fingers in “ breaking ” 
or disconnecting the different lengths. The least 
severe part of fighting a winter fire may be said to 
be the fire itself, for the aftermath — collecting the 
hose, packing it upon the wagon in ship-shape 
order, and the long ride home in an icy breeze 
and in water-soaked clothing — is an experience 
that few would care to encounter; yet it is the 
usual sequel to every winter fire. 

Broken glass and melted lead are among the 
other dangers that firemen are compelled to face 
at bad fires. The former occurs at almost every 
fire, and is caused by the flames bursting through 
the windows, or by the efforts of the men to make 
an opening in the building. The latter is caused 
by the burning away of metal cornices and orna¬ 
mental iron-work at the top of buildings, in which 
an immense amount of solder is used to hold parts 



LADDER-WORK IN ZERO WEATHER, 












THE RISKS OF A FIREMAN'S LIFE 


129 


together. When the roaring flames pour out of 
the top-story windows of a building and curl up 
against this metal-work with the force of a blast¬ 
furnace, a perfect rain of molten metal pours 
down, with an occasional piece of red-hot tin or 
zinc, for variety. Men working upon ladders or on 
fire-escapes underneath have to stand this red-hot 
shower while it burns great holes in their rubber 
coats, or protect themselves as best they can by 
crouching inside the window-frames. “ Top-story 
fires v may not have the disadvantages and discom¬ 
forts that result from the smoke of a cellar fire, 
but they make up for it by the numerous petty 
dangers of other kinds. 

There is scarcely a fire at which some one is not 
injured by the broken glass, sometimes seriously. 
There are scores of men in the New York depart¬ 
ment to-day bearing the marks of cuts by glass; 
and many have been maimed in this manner. 
They usually receive their injuries while standing 
on or going up the ladders. A window bursts 
open, or some one will break it open with an ax 
or with a hook, and large pieces of glass come slid¬ 
ing down the ladder, and, if the men are not 
quick, will cut them across the back of the hand. 
Many have been severely injured in this manner, 


130 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


the muscles that control the fingers being severed, 
virtually maiming them for life. 

There is something weird and at the same time 
exciting in watching the men make a night at¬ 
tack upon a smoky fire. The hoarse shouts and 
commands of the officers are heard; while the dim 
figures of the men, some carrying lanterns, others 
dragging the lines of hose into position, dash in 
and out. Within can be heard the dull chung, 
chung of the heavy ax making an opening through 
some door or partition that keeps the men from 
the seat of the fire. The thick smoke rolls down 
at times and shuts everything from view, only to 
lift the next moment and. clear away as if the fire 
had suddenly stopped. The next instant it settles 
down again, forming an inky pall through which 
it is impossible to see clearly for more than a foot 
away. In the midst of this there comes a crash 
from above, and a perfect avalanche of glass de¬ 
scends : a window lias been broken by the heat, or 
by men within to give themselves air. Those work¬ 
ing beneath who are unable to escape this shower, 
stand perfectly still with their hands drawn closely 
to their sides, while the pieces rattle around them. 
The thick leather fire-liat, with its broad, protect¬ 
ing leaf at the back, saves them from injury. This 


THE RISKS OF A FIREMAN’S LIFE 


131 


is a characteristic position that the men take when 
in the midst of falling debris; and the leather hat, 
with its stout ridges or “spines” on the top, pro¬ 
tects their heads from many a serious cut or bruise. 

When entering a strange building filled with 
smoke, the officers’ first thought (and the men’s as 
well) is how to escape should anything happen 
while they are working within. More correctly 
speaking, this is a supposed rule, not written down, 
that is observed by the men for their own protec¬ 
tion. But in the excitement and hurry of making 
an attack upon a fire it is seldom regarded, and 
men often find themselves lost in a building, grop¬ 
ing about, searching for some way of escape, while 
the smoke gets so thick that tlieir lanterns are 
extinguished. Their only hope in this case is to 
find the line of hose that has been brought in, and, 
on finding it, to follow it along to the street. By 
keeping their faces low down, close to the hose, 
they will usually find a current of fresh air, es¬ 
pecially if the line is charged with water, and this 
will perhaps save them from suffocation. 

At the school of instruction the firemen are 
taught, before they enter the service, how to use 
their hooks as a means of self-protection when 
in smoky fires. The instructor tells them that by 


132 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


pushing the hook ahead of them as they are ad¬ 
vancing in a strange building, it will give warning 
of their approach to open hatchways, partitions, 
etc. Falls through open bulkheads and open 
hatchways when working in thick, heavy smoke 
are quite frequent, and form another of the many 
dangers the firemen have to encounter. 

To move about quickly and with safety in the 
dark through a building that one is thoroughly 
acquainted with is difficult enough; but when we 
combine a heavy smoke with the darkness, and 
imagine a fireman to be in a building that he 
knows nothing about, it can be seen that the task 
of the exploring fireman is anything but an easy 
one. 

Falls from roofs and extensions of buildings 
occur frequently, and form another menace of the 
calling. When walking on slippery roofs, some¬ 
times covered with ice and snow, getting the lines 
of hose into position, or raising ladders to get at 
taller buildings, the firemen work under great dif¬ 
ficulties; and it is remarkable that there are not 
more accidents than do occur. The water that they 
are using only adds to the dangerous condition of 
the roofs, sometimes forming a sheet of ice in cold 
weather; and as everything is done in a hurry, 



“TAKING” A SHOWER OF FALLING GLASS, 










THE RISKS OF A FIREMAN’S LIFE 


135 


the escapes that they sometimes have are little 
short of miraculous. 

Though their life is full of uncertainties and 
risks, the firemen find their own amusement and 
pleasure in the very dangers that they have to 
face. There is scarcely a serious fire that does 
not have a humorous side to it; and they often 
laugh and joke afterward at the discomforts and 
trials that they have just gone through; or if not 
at their own, then at those of some fellow-member 
who has been in a particularly disagreeable po¬ 
sition. 

An incident that happened at a large cotton- 
fire in the lower part of New York, some years ago, 
had its comic side, and was the means of the fire¬ 
men discovering the main body of the fife, which 
for some time they had been endeavoring in vain 
to locate. 

The smoke was pouring out of nearly every 
part of the building, and although several en¬ 
trances had been made, it had been impossible to 
find the seat of the fire. The chief in charge 
ordered some windows on the third floor to be 
“ opened up,” and a ladder was accordingly raised, 
and a fireman ascended. With the aid of a hook 
he pried open the iron shutters, and, lamp in hand, 


136 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


stepped in and — disappeared! His companion 
upon the ladder, wondering why he had so sud¬ 
denly vanished from sight, peered in, and found 
that he had stepped into the elevator-shaft, which 
was directly under this window, and had fallen 
through to the basement. Hastily descending, he 
alarmed the others, and forcing an entrance, they 
made their way to the cellar. Here they found 
their comrade in a sitting position upon a bale of 
cotton, partly stunned and dazed from the shock of 
the fall, but otherwise uninjured. In his hand he 
still held the wire handle of his lamp,— all that re¬ 
mained of it,— while in front of him, further in the 
basement, blazing merrily, was the fire they had 
been endeavoring to find. His fall had led him 
directly to it. On afterward examining the hatch¬ 
way, or shaft, through which he had fallen, they 
found that it had bars running diagonally across 
at each floor, and in some marvelous way he had 
escaped each one on his downward flight. 

In relating his experience afterward, he seemed 
to think his fall an especially good joke, and that 
it was particularly funny his not getting a “ bump ” 
from the cross-bars on his way down; though I 
must confess I could not see anything so very 
amusing in falling four floors through a burning 



A HOT PLACE 









THE RISKS OF A FIREMAN’S LIFE 


139 


building, and bringing up right in the heart of 
a fire. 

Considering the exposure that men in this busi¬ 
ness have to endure: jumping out of a warm bed 
on a bitter cold night to answer an alarm; tearing 
through the streets, in the face of a biting wind, 
bareheaded and coatless, finishing their dressing 
as they dash along; working in water-soaked 
clothing in a freezing temperature; and having 
many hours of exhausting work at a time — con¬ 
sidering all these, the mortality among the fire¬ 
men is very light. They are usually of strong 
build physically, and able to stand exposures 
that would kill the ordinary man in private life 
two or three times over, if such a thing were 
possible. As a rule, they are fond of their call¬ 
ing ; and the true fireman is as enthusiastic about 
his work, and as full of spirit in executing it, 
as the soldier or sailor. The very dangers and 
uncertainties of which his life is so full add a 
kind of fascinating interest to it, and he is always 
ready for the unexpected—which usually happens. 

I saw an exciting incident at the burning of 
the big American Exchange Stable in New York, 
last summer, that was a striking illustration of the 
pluck of our firemen at a critical moment, and 


140 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


their reluctance to desert “the line” even when 
great danger threatens them. 

The building was located on Broadway, and ex¬ 
tended eastward, along Fiftieth Street, to Seventh 
Avenue. The tire was a big one, and as at one 
time it seemed that the flames might extend to 
other buildings, five alarms were sent out. Twenty 
or thirty minutes after the outbreak, the Fifty-first 
Street side was nearly all burned away, and the 
walls on that side had fallen, leaving great gaps 
through which streams of water were being poured 
on the blazing interior. Near the corner of Broad¬ 
way and Fifty-first Street there was a tall piece 
of the wall still standing, about two stories high, 
and surmounted by an ornamental piece of stone¬ 
work. This bit of ruined wall swayed to and fro 
as the timbers and beams burned away and fell 
with great crashes within. 

Almost directly in front of this remaining tower 
of wall, among the steaming bricks and smolder¬ 
ing woodwork, were crouched a little group of fire¬ 
men, directing a heavy stream of water into the 
roaring furnace facing them. Their engine was 
working at full pressure, and the line was a hard 
one to control. Here it may be explained that 
when these big fire-engines are working at full 


THE RISKS OF A FIREMAN’S LIFE 


141 


speed and forcing from 500 to 800 gallons of water 
per minute through the hose, the pressure of the 
nozle is all upward and backward. In order to 
control and direct the stream, the firemen throw 
their full weight upon the line and nozle, and it 
usually takes from four to six men to manage such 
a stream. 

Such was the little group that I describe. Be¬ 
hind crouched their captain, directing and encour¬ 
aging them, just as an officer upon the battle-field 
stands behind his men, directing their deadly fire 
into the enemy’s ranks. 

Suddenly a heavier crash than usual came from 
behind this tall chimney-like piece of wall. It 
quivered for a moment, and then began to fall 
straight outward, and, it seemed, directly over the 
little group in the street. * As it began to totter, 
the few privileged spectators standing on the op¬ 
posite side of the street ran in dismay in every 
direction; for they feared that it would reach clear 
across and crash into the houses opposite. Glanc¬ 
ing back as they ran, they were horror-stricken to 
see that the little group of firemen had made no 
effort to escape, but were still kneeling in the same 
position, as if awaiting their fate. The crash came. 
The street fairly shook, and volumes of red dust 


142 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


filled the air and obscured the view, while the 
flames for a moment leaped higher and higher, 
as if glorying in their victory over the few brave 
fellows who had been battling against them. 

The crowd returned, sickened with the expecta¬ 
tion of finding the little company of fire-fighters 
buried beneath the smoking debris; but when 
the smoke and dust cleared away, there was the 
little band crouching over the hose as before, and 
facing the fire as if nothing at all had happened. 
Their captain bent over them in the same position, 
uttering a word of encouragement now and then, 
while the powerful stream was directed at some 
more effective point exposed by the falling of 
the wall. 

They had watched it as it fell, and had gaged 
its distance. By a quick movement all at once 
they had shifted the hose far enough to one side to 
dodge the wall as it came down, and had taken 
their chances of getting hit by a stray brick or 
two rather than desert the line at this critical mo¬ 
ment. To have left it would have meant almost 
certain death to one or more of their number, for 
a heavily charged line of hose, when beyond control, 
twists about in a serpent-like manner with frightful 
force, and a blow from it is sufficient to kill a man. 


FALLING WALI 

















THE RISKS OF A FIREMAN'S LIFE 


145 


They had hung together and faced the danger 
as one man, and it was a glorious exhibition 
of perfect discipline and indomitable pluck. The 
crowd, realizing the nerve that it required to stay 
in such a perilous place, gave vent to a confused 
murmur of approval. If the firemen heard it, they 
never gave any sign that they did, but went calmly 
on with their work. Turning their heads neither 
to the one side nor to the other but looking grimly 
ahead, they slashed the water here and there in 
the blazing structure that was slowly turning to a 
blackened, smoking mass of ruins. 

When two or three companies are making an 
attack upon a fire and getting their lines of hose 
into position, mingled with the hoarse shouts and 
orders of the officers will come the familiar cry of 
u Start your water!” followed by the number of the 
company to which the order is passed. This might 
almost be called the battle-cry of the men, for it 
signals the opening of the attack upon the fire, and 
is a demand for their only protection and ammuni¬ 
tion — water. 

With a “ good charged pipe,” as they call it, the 

firemen will venture anywhere, and attack any mass 

of fire, no matter how formidable it may seem; but 

without the aid of this essential element they are 
10 


* 


146 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


utterly helpless, and many a company has been 
forced to desert the hose and flee for their lives 
because of a bursted length in the line or the sud¬ 
den stoppage of the supply from some unknown 
cause. 

In order to facilitate the placing of lines of hose 
in position, the water is very often not started until 
they have reached the seat of the fire, especially if 
it is a hard one to locate. The hose itself is heavy 
enough to drag to the required position, without 
the added weight of water; and if it has to be 
taken up three or four flights of stairs, or up a 
fire-escape or ladder, it is the hardest kind of labor, 
and tugging at a heavy and unwieldy 2J-inch hose 
in a smoky atmosphere, and in the excitement 
and hurry of getting to work, is not the most 
agreeable of work. 

But when the line is in position and the blaze 
is at last reached, the order “ Start your water! ” 
is quickly passed. This order is passed along 
the line, sometimes shouted from a window and 
taken up in the street and shouted from one to an¬ 
other until it reaches the engineer, who, opening a 
u gate ” or valve on the engine, transforms the flat, 
flabby mass of hose into a quivering thing of life, 
pulsating with every throb of the engine and hurl- 







* 


START YOUR WATER.” 


















































THE RISKS OF A FIREMAN’S LIFE 4 


149 


ing at tlie heart of the fire its welcome ton or more 
of water every minute. 

Accustomed as the firemen are to fight fire in 
all its different forms, they become inured to its 
dangers, and will dash into the most perilous posi¬ 
tion, taking the greatest personal risk, without giv¬ 
ing it a second thought. Perhaps if they stopped 
to think they would not be good firemen. 

One of the rules of the New York Fire Depart¬ 
ment cautions the officers not to expose their men 
to unnecessary dangers or to jeopardize their lives 
in any way in extinguishing fires; and they are 
not supposed to order the men into any position 
where they—the officers—cannot go themselves. 
Although the rule is generally observed, still, in 
the excitement of making an attack upon a fire, es¬ 
pecially if it is gaining headway, all such rules are 
forgotten, and almost any risk or chance is taken 
to reach a good position and get the water applied 
effectively. Very often the men themselves, in 
their eagerness to attack their natural enemy and 
“ get a belt at it with the pipe,” as they say in their 
own parlance, or to beat some other company into 
position and win “first water,” will expose them¬ 
selves to great danger; and before they actually 
realize it they are surrounded on all sides by 


150 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


flames, with all escape seemingly cut off:. When 
caught in a “ box ” like this, I have heard them 
remark afterward that they would mentally vow 
that if they escaped alive they would “ resign from 
the business ” the next day; but when all danger 
was passed the vow was forgotten, and they 
laughed at their own fears, and were ready to 
jump into places equally hazardous. 

Sometimes they are ordered to the roof of a 
building on fire “to ventilate,” as they call it,— 
to break sky-lights and bulkheads to relieve the 
smoke inside,— perhaps to drag into position lines 
of hose that have been brought up from adjoining 
roofs. The fire may have been burning in the 
building longer than the officer in command 
knows. This has weakened the supports of the 
roof, and it needs only the added weight of the 
men to cause it to collapse, forcing them to jump 
to adjoining roofs, to slide down the hose or lad¬ 
ders, or make their escape in any possible way. 

I once saw a very exciting incident of this 
kind at an East Side factory fire, some years 
ago, when a company of men with a line of 
hose had scarcely reached the roof when nearly 
all the roof and part of the rear side wall col¬ 
lapsed, leaving them hanging or clinging to the 


THE RISKS OF A FIREMAN’S LIFE 


151 


coping and the part of the roof still remaining. 
They were forced to jump to the roof of a side 
building some twenty feet below; and but for 
the heroic work of some of their comrades, who 
climbed up and rescued those clinging to • the 
shaky piece of roof that remained, they would 
soon have fallen directly into the main body of 
the fire. 

At the big Bleecker Street fire, some two years 
ago, the firemen had an experience they will never 
forget. Six companies were working in the big 
Manhattan Bank building on the corner opposite 
the fire, trying to prevent the flames from getting 
a foothold there. The intense heat generated by 
the fire opposite caused the iron piers or beams on 
the side to twist and warp, and they gave way, 
carrying down two floors. The firemen inside, 
panic-stricken, not knowing what moment the 
whole 'structure would collapse, had to make their 
escape as best they could, jumping across the gap 
where the stairs had been (the steps were carried 
away by the falling of the floors), or sliding 
down the hose on the outside of the building from 
the fifth and sixth floors! 

Many men were injured in escaping in this 
manner; and the only wonder was that a number 


152 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


were not killed. The experience the men had at 
this fire will last them a lifetime; but it is only 
another example of the risks and dangers that 
make up the fireman’s life. 


J 


PETER SPOTS—FIREMAN. 

+ 

T HIS is how Joe, the driver of the engine, told 
me the story of Peter Spots: 

“ How did we get him ?—well, I don’t remember 
exactly. Let me see. It was about three years 
ago or more — maybe more — and — oh, yes, Billy 
has it right. He was chased in there one night by 
a lot of boys. Now I do remember, and mighty 
well too. Bob was on watch that night. You see 
Bob ’s my partner, or ‘relief,’ as we call it. He 
drives the engine when I am on my ‘ day off ’ or 
out to my meals. We always have at least two 
drivers, sometimes more, both for the engine and 
tender, in case one is ‘off,’ or out of the house, 
when we get a ‘ run,’ as we call an alarm of fire. 

“ Yes, Bob was on watch, and he and I and Billy 
were standing over there beside the ‘ trip ’ talking. 
Billy was telling us one of his yarns. He ’s the 
oracle of the company, and an old-timer from the 

153 


154 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


days of the old Volunteers. Born and raised up 
the State somewhere, he belonged to the fire bri¬ 
gade in his native town before he came to New 
York. In those days all the apparatus they had to 
fight a fire with was a few buckets and a sponge. 
The sponge was used to cool the boys off when 
they got too excited, having arguments as to who 
was to put out the fire — at least that’s what Billy 
says. Then Billy came to the city and joined the 
old Volunteers; and when this department was or¬ 
ganized in 18G4, he drifted in with the rest of the 
old-timers, and has been a fixture ever since. But 
he is pretty well worn out now, been overcome 
with smoke so many times, had his arms and legs 
broken in several places, falling down hatchways 
and off ladders, and such like; and he ’s gotten 
the 1 dose ’ so much he is full of rheumatism. 

“ The ‘ dose ’ is what we call getting chuck full 
of smoke in a cellar-fire, or getting soaked with 
water while doing ladder-work in the winter time. 
Standing at the peak of a ladder and a heavy 
stream working over your head, you get the drip¬ 
pings of that stream for two or three hours, and 
maybe the full force of it, once in a while, and 
you won’t have a dry stitch on you; and if the 
thermometer is down about zero, it ’ll be apt to 


PETEK SPOTS 










PETER SPOTS — FIREMAN 


157 


leave you with a touch of rheumatism. That ’s 
the way Billy got his. But I am getting away 
from my story about Peter. Yes, Billy was telling 
one of his old yarns, something about his com¬ 
pany, the Pioneer Hose, 4 washing ’ Big Six in the 
days of the old department. 

44 Big Six was one of the crack companies at the 
time; and ‘washing’ consisted of pumping more 
water into a rival company’s engine than they 
could pump out , 1 and the boys were as proud of 
having 4 washed ’ a rival’s engine in those days as 
we are to-day of beating another company in their 
own territory and getting 4 first water ’ over them, 
which we take great pride in doing. 

44 Well, Billy was telling us this yarn — we ’d 
only heard it about forty or fifty times before ; but 
we did n’t say nothing, only made believe it was 
all new to us; for it did n’t do us no harm to listen 
to it, and it gave him a great deal of pleasure to 

1 “ Washing ” a rival company occurred in the days of the Volun¬ 
teer Fire Department, when the companies were obliged to get water 
from a distance to extinguish a fire. They would sling out in a line 
toward the scene of action, and pump from one engine to another until 
they reached the fire; and if one of the companies nearest the source 
of the water, usually a cistern, or perhaps the river, pumped harder 
than the next one, they would force more water into their rival’s 
reservoir than the latter could pump out; consequently it would 
overflow, and that was what they called “ washing” another com¬ 
pany. 


158 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


tell it, and lie liad told it so many times I guess he 
half began to think it really happened; but I did 
not take much stock in it myself. All of a sudden 
there came a ki-yi-ing of a dog out in the street, 
and a hollering of a lot of boys, and something 
came flying in through the open doors and took 
refuge over there, in a corner of the ‘ hose-tower.’ 
‘ A mad dog! ’ says Billy; and with that a crowd 
of boys ran up to the doorway and began waving 
sticks and a-shouting and hollering like mad; and 


I really think if we had n’t been there they would 
have marched right in and yanked the poor fellow 
out. As it was, one leaned over the chain and 
shied a stone at the corner where he was hiding, 
and I shouted, ‘ Clear out o’ here, you rapscal¬ 
lions ! ’ But bless you, sir, they did n’t mind that 
— not much. They were a hard lot from down 
the avenue a bit; and we have a good deal of 
trouble with them. It is only luck that we have 
not run over half a dozen or more of them when 
we are turning out. Seeing that did n’t have no 
effect on them, I reached for my whip on the en¬ 
gine, and started for the crowd; and you ought to 
have seen them ‘dust.’ Why, when I got to the 
pavement there was n’t a sign of them anywhere. 
They disappeared like the wind. I then came 


PETER SPOTS - FIREMAN 


159 


back, and putting the whip up in place again, I 
went over to see what kind of a dog it was. Billy 
calls out: ‘ Look out, Joe ! Maybe he ’s mad! ’ 
But I says: ‘Not much; only frightened a bit.’ 
And I knelt down beside him. 

u He was crouching in the corner licking a place 
on his hind leg where one of the villains had hit 
him with a stone. At first he growled a little; but 
I spoke kindly to him, and seeing he was n’t going 
to get hurt, he began wagging his tail in a friendly 
sort of way and shaking his head back and forth as 
if he knew me. 

“ Billy came over, and looking at him says: 
‘ Why, he ’s a coach dog, and not a bad-looking 
fellow either, only he has n’t seen a square meal 
for some time. I ’ll bet those varmints of boys 
have half scared the life out o’ him. Say, Joe, he 
would be a good dog for the house. Why, I re¬ 
member when I was down in 17 Engine — ’ but at 
this moment the Captain came in and I was spared 
another one of Billy’s yarns. 

“ ‘ Captain,’ says I, 4 would you like a dog ? ? 

“‘No, I guess not,’ says he, slowly; 4 we have 
killed all the dogs we ever had — run over them, 
and then, he would be getting in the way of the 
horses when we ’re turning out, and — ’ 


160 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


44 4 No,’ chimes in Billy. 4 He’s a coach-dog and 
nsed to horses; he would n’t be in the way.’ 

444 Where did you get him f ’ says the Captain. 

44 4 He run in here a few moments ago. Some 
boys chased him in,’ says I. 

44 4 Well, he ’ll run out again, the first chance he 
gets,’ replied the Captain. 

44 4 1 don’t think so,’ says I. 4 He’s been badly 
treated, and if we give him something to eat and 
treat him right he will stay with us, I think, and 
if any one wants to come and claim him, and can 
prove that he is theirs, they can have him.’ 

44 By this time the Captain was interested, and 
he’s as good-hearted a man as ever wore a leather 
hat, and fond of horses and dogs and all kinds of 
animals, so he leans over and says to Peter, who 
was sitting there looking so solemn: 4 Would you 
like to be a fireman’s dog ? ’ 

44 1 ’ll eat my hat if I don’t think he knew what 
the Captain said; for he put his two front paws 
forward and rubbed his nose up and down between 
them, as much as to say: 4 Yes.’ 

44 4 What’s his name ? ” says the Captain. 

44 Billy and I shook our heads, and I says, 4 We 
don’t know.’ 

44 4 What’s your name ? ’ says the Captain, look¬ 
ing right at him. 







“‘WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE A FIREMAN’S DOG?’” 


11 































































































PETER SPOTS — FIREMAN 


163 


“ He looked back as if he wanted to speak, and 
opened liis month and moved his tongue from one 
side to another as if trying to say something. 

“ 1 That ain’t loud enough,’ hollers the Captain, 
laughing. 4 What’s your name f ’ 

u This time the dog gave one short bark. 

“ ‘ That sounds like Pete,’ said Billy; ‘ there ’s 
only one syllable in it! ’— Billy’s a smart one even 
if he is an old-timer. 

“ 6 Well, Pete it is,’ says the Captain. t All right, 
boys, take care of him — and Joe, see that you 
don’t run over him. And Bob,’— giving a wink to 
me (Bob was sitting at the desk),— ‘ put him down 
in the house-journal as a new member, and see 
that he responds on the floor at roll-call in the 
morning,— and Billy, here,’—he put his hand in 
his pocket and pulled out a quarter, and tossed it 
to him,— 4 go round to McNally’s restaurant and 
get him something to eat — we can’t let a new 
member go hungry, can we, boys ! ” 

“ That was just like the Captain; he would n’t 
let any one go hungry — let alone a poor dumb 
animal. 

“ Bob had opened the book and was putting him 
down in the 1 journal,’ as serious as a judge. 

“ ‘Fireman of the third grade, Captain!’ he sung 


out. 


164 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


44 4 Yes/ says the Captain, 4 fireman of the third 
grade.’ 

444 Peter —’and then Boh stopped. ‘Peter what?’ 
says he. 

44 4 I don’t know,’ says the Captain, and he looked 
at me. 

44 4 Well,’ chimes in Billy, ‘lie’s all over black 
spots. I kl call him Peter Spots! ’ 

444 That’s right,’ says the Captain; 4 Billy, you ’re 
a jewel; Peter Spots it is. And now, go and get 
him something to eat, or he ’ll starve to death be¬ 
fore we get him down in the journal.’ 

44 And down he went in the books as ‘Peter 
Spots, new member,’ and that’s how he came to 
join our company. 

44 The first night he was with us we did n’t have 
any ‘calls,’ and after getting a good meal from 
what Billy brought back he crawled over there, be¬ 
hind one of the stalls, and went to sleep — the first 
good night’s sleep, I guess, he ’d had for a long 
while. The next morning he was up early, as 
frisky as could be, playing with the man on watch 
and a-cutting up high jinks around here, for you 
see he was a young dog and playful-like. Just 
then a station came in — the gong began to hit — 
and we came piling down from above. The horses 


PETER SPOTS — FIREMAN 


165 


rushed out, and the racket kind o’ scared him, — it 
came so sudden,— and he went sneaking off to the 
hack of the house, with his tail hanging down as if 
he was afraid he’d knocked something over and 
caused all the hubbub. 

44 The station did n’t touch us, though, and we 
did n’t go — that is, not on the first alarm, but it 
was one of our second-alarm stations, and while 
we were waiting, for we always keep the horses 
hitched up and wait on the floor for ten minutes 
on all stations that we are 4 due on ’ on the second 
alarm, the Captain says: 4 Where’s the new mem¬ 
ber f ’ but nobody knew, so we all shook our heads. 

44 The house-watchman said the last he saw of 
him he was skipping off toward the back of the 
floor when the 4 joker’ began to ring, and we 
looked all over, but could n’t find him anywhere, 
and the Captain declared he’d run away, just as 
he said he would. But finally, about twenty min¬ 
utes after, when we got the 4 test call,’ which is 
eleven taps that we get every morning at 8 o’clock, 
from headquarters, to see that the wires are all in 
working order, and which also serves as the 4 roll 
call ’ of the company, and is the beginning of an¬ 
other day’s 4 watches,’ he came crawling out of the 
furnace of that spare engine, that we keep over 


1G6 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


there in the corner, where he had hid himself, and 
sneaking along the stalls he came over to ns, look¬ 
ing very sheepish and ashamed. The Captain, 
winking at me, hollered at him: ‘You ’re a nice 
fireman, you are. If you don’t respond in better 
order at roll-call in the morning after this, we ’ll 
have you up before the Commissioners, and have 
you fined five days’ pay! ’ 

“ But Billy spoke up and took his part, and 
said: 

“ ‘ Don’t be hard on him, Captain. He’s a new 
member, and new members are always nervous. 
Why, that gong would give most any one the 
heart-disease, hearing it the first time, it comes so 
suddint! Why, I remember when I was down in 
5 Truck, we had a new member on, an’ the first 
time he —’ but the Captain cut him short, saying, 
‘You’d better go to breakfast, Billy; you ’re the 
first one off this morning ’; and so another one of 
Billy’s stories was spoiled. 

“ The first run we made after getting him, he 
did n’t go with us, and we were wondering when 
we were rolling home whether we would find him 
in the engine-house on our return, or whether he 
had turned out with us and we had lost him on the 
way to the fire; for we ain’t over particular in 



PETER ON DUTY, 












PETER SPOTS —FIREMAN 


169 


taking notice of tilings around us when we are 
getting out when an alarm of fire comes in. The 
first idea is to get out, and that as quickly as pos¬ 
sible ; and as we had all got interested in Peter, we 
were anxious to see whether he had deserted us or 
not; but when we opened the door of the house, 
out he came bounding, jumping up at all of us, 
and barking away, as much as to say: 4 Well, did 
you put out the fire ? Sorry I was n’t with you,’ 
or something like that; for to me he is so smart 
that I think he is trying to talk all the time, in his 
own way. And now — well, bless you, sir, he ’s 
the first one out of the house. The instant the 
gong begins to ring, he takes his position right 
there, under the front truck of the engine, and 
there he stands — with eyes wide open, ears up, 
and tail sticking right straight out, he watches 
me. The moment I start for the seat, he ’s off like 
a shot for the end of the pole between the horses, 
barking like mad; for he knows we are going out 
or I would n’t jump for the seat. When the doors 
open, out he goes like a bullet from a gun; and 
if there is any one passing or standing outside, he 
clears them away in short order; and there’s very 
little danger of running over any one so long as we 
have him ahead of us, for he clears the way better 


170 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


than two or three men could. All the way to the 
fire he keeps half a block or more ahead. 

“ And now let me tell you how smart he is; for 
no matter how rough the street may be, no matter 
how dirty, muddy, or slushy it is, nor how the 
stones may hurt his feet, on he goes, and never 
leaves it; but when we are comiug home, bless 
your life ! the street is n’t good enough for him, 
and you can’t get him into it, no matter how you 
may coax. No, sir; he takes the sidewalk back, 
and walks along as quiet and dignified as can be, 
scarcely ever noticing any other dog oil his way; 
for I think he feels he is much more important 
than they are, and that they are not in his class at 
all. Nor does he stop when we get to the fire; 
but he follows us right up in the building, down a 
basement, or up a ladder — ah, now I see you 
are laughing, and don’t believe what I am telling 
you, but it is a fact. He can climb a ladder with 
the best of us, providing it ain’t too high a one, and 
follows us right in with the Mine’; but he can’t 
come down a ladder; he has n’t the knack of that 
yet, and that’s where the trouble conies in. Many 
’s the time we ’ve gone up and brought him out, 
overcome with smoke, and, carrying him down, laid 
him in the wagon to get over it. 


PETER SPOTS — FIREMAN 


171 


“ And many’s tlie time the Chief has said to ns: 
1 Some of you fellows will he losing your lives yet, 
with that dog! ’ But, pshaw! sir, we would as 
soon think of leaving one of the company behind 
as leave Peter; for he is one of the company, al¬ 
though he ? s only a dog. 

u And he’s taken his dose with the best of us. 
Got full of smoke lots of times, and soaked with 
water over and over again. Came home one night 
with his tail frozen stiff. Got drenched at a cellar- 
fire, and as it was a bitter cold night it froze on 
him on his way back. He was on the sick-list for 
a long while after that, and we had him tied up in 
the cellar near the furnace, thawing out, and all 
done irp in bandages; but he came out all right. 
Then we knocked him out of a window, one night, 
with a line. He was standing on the sill, and we 
were making a quick movement to get from one 
room to another. There was good pressure on, 
and we had a heavy stream to handle; and just as 
we made a quick turn to get a 4 belt ’ at another 
room that was blazing up lively, we hit Peter, 
standing on the window-sill, square with the 
stream. Out he went sailing clear into the middle 
of the street, like as if he’d been shot from a can¬ 
non. We thought he was done for that time, sure; 


172 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


but when we ‘ backed out,’ about twenty minutes 
after, there he was, a little lame, but nearly as 
lively as ever. There was considerable snow in 
the street, and that saved him. 

“ And burns ? Well, say, his back is all tattooed 
from the burns he 7 s caught. What with falling 
plaster and bits of burning wood, he is all covered 
with bare places where the hair will never grow 
again; but those are service-marks, and I tell you 
he 7 s a veteran and proud of them. 

“ But poor Peter got into disrepute one time and 
was ‘suspended from active duty 7 ; and I must tell 
you about it, for it is one of the events of his life, 
and shows that a dog never forgets. 

“ It came about this way: we always had a repu¬ 
tation for being a lively company — of turning out 
in good order and quickly, of keeping all stations 
that we were due on first, and not losing any of 
them to the other companies above and below us 
through slowness, and of always being found in a 
‘good position 7 by the Chief when he arrived at 
the fire—something our Captain has taken a great 
deal of pride in ; but there came a time when every¬ 
thing went wrong with us, and Peter, without 
meaning any harm, helped it along. We got a new 
team of horses for the engine, and were breaking 





PETER ON “HOUSE-WATCH.” 



























































































































PETER SPOTS — FIREMAN 


175 


them ill; they were pretty slow at first, and it was 
quite a job, and it was as much as I could do to get 
a 4 run ’ out of them, and Peter got in a bad habit 
of jumping up at them and biting at their chests 
when we were on our way to a fire. I suppose he 
thought he would make them go faster by doing 
this; but this only made matters worse, and in¬ 
stead of increasing their speed they would balk 
and stop altogether. 

44 I tried to break him of it, but—no use. I fixed 
a long lash to my whip and would touch him with 
it, but it did n’t make anv difference; and I knew 
there would be trouble if he did n’t stop, for we 
kept losing fires that were easily ours, and to save 
Peter I kept blaming it on the horses, and told the 
Captain it would be all right when we got the team 
broken in. Finally there came a day when every¬ 
thing went against us. 

“We received an alarm of fire from a station 
above here that should have been ours without 
any trouble. You see, sir, there is a great deal of 
rivalry among the companies about getting to a 
fire when an alarm comes in. The next company 
above here lays about fifteen blocks away; the 
next one below, about eighteen blocks. We claim 
everything half the distance either way. If we 


176 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


can hitch np a little quicker than they can, and 
make better time, we can get tires away from either 
of the other companies; for the first company to 
arrive ‘ gets the fire,’— that is, gets L first water,’ as 
we call it,—and there is a great deal of ‘ crowing’ 
done when we beat another company in their own 
territory, and we feel very cheap when we get 
beaten ourselves. 

“Well, that ’s the way it was on the day that 
Peter got suspended. The alarm came in from a 
station that was in our half of the territory,— a 
fire that ought to have been ours easily, but the 
harness got jammed — would not come down on 
the horses; then when we started, the horses 
shied, and we came near killing our lieutenant, 
who was opening the doors. This got the engine 
crooked, so that we could not get through the door¬ 
way, and we had to back her before we could get 
out, and I tell you everything went wrong. We 
only lost a few seconds by these mishaps, but it 
was enough to lose us the station. 

“ When we finally got out and got going up the 
avenue, I tried to make up for lost time by giving 
the horses all the rein I could, and giving them 
the whip once in a while, but Peter was so excited 
by this time at the delay, that he began jumping 


PETER SPOTS — FIREMAN 


177 


at the horses’ chests and biting at them, and they 
balked so they would n’t go at all. I suppose he 
meant well enough, and wanted them to go faster, 
but he only made matters worse; and when I got 
to the fire there was our rival company at work,— 
line stretched in,— and making all kinds of mean 
remarks as we pulled up at a hydrant. Even the 
Chief was there, and he gave our Captain an awful 
4 lacing ’— wanted to know 4 if we were all asleep 
down at our quarters,’ and 4 if we thought we were 
going to a funeral, that we took so much time! ’ 
This almost broke the old man’s heart, and I tell 
you I never felt so cheap in all my life as I did 
when I found how late we were. 

44 When we got back to quarters again we all got 
a lecture from the Captain, and then he took me 
aside and said: 

44 4 Joe, I don’t like to do it, but we must get rid 
of Peter. He’s bothering the horses a good deal, 
and I cannot take any more chances like that 
to-day. If I lose any more fires, you know what 
will happen.’ And lie looked at me hard, and I 
nodded my head; for I knew that meant a transfer 
for him to another company. Then he went on to 
say: 4 You look for some nice person to give him 
to, some one who will take good care of him, and 


12 


178 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


some one who lives some distance from here. You 
know, if we give him to any one in the neighbor¬ 
hood he ’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Meanwhile, 
he is not to turn out with us any more. So tie 
him up until you find some one to take him.’ And 
so Peter was suspended from active duty. 

“ It happened that I knew the very person to 
turn him over to. There was a baker who deliv¬ 
ered bread to some of the houses around here, and 
whose shop was quite a ways from here,— about 
thirty or forty blocks,— and in a street we were 
not apt to go through. He had taken a great lik¬ 
ing to Peter, and had offered to buy him several 
times, and, of course, we had always refused. 
Peter had also gotten to like the baker very much, 
for he brought Peter, every once in a while, an 
odd kind of bread that Peter was very fond of. 
So that night, at my supper-hour, I took Peter 
down to his bake-sliop, and transferred the smart¬ 
est dog in the Fire Department from an engine- 
house to a bakery — a big come-down, I tell you. 

“At first we missed him a good deal; but in a 
big Fire Department you get so used to changes 
and transfers from one company to another that 
in time you get so you don’t miss anything or any¬ 
body. So it was with Peter; and though we all 


EVERY TIME PETER GAVE A KICK, IIE KNOCKED A PIE OR A PLATE 
FULL OF CAKES OUT OF THE WINDOW.” 







































































































K 1 1 I ' . ■ 




, 


PETER SPOTS —FIREMAN 


181 


liked him, we knew lie was with some one who 
would take good care of him. I went down to see 
him whenever I got a chance, and found he was 
getting along nicely, although I could see he was 
broken in spirit; and no wonder. Think of it! 
After the excitement of life in a fire-engine house, 
with the gongs a-liitting, the horses a-prancing, 
and the men a-shouting, to have to knuckle down 
to life in a dry old bakery, with nothing but a 
lazy Dutchman and a lot of crullers and cream- 
puffs for company, is enough to break any one’s 
spirit, and I felt sorry for Peter. 

“We had almost forgotten about Peter, and got 
used to not having him around, when one day a 
third alarm came in that took us out; and in 
getting to the station I had to drive through the 
street the baker’s place was on. Never thought of 
it myself, but you can bet Peter had n’t forgotten 
us; and when we made our appearance he showed 
up pretty quick. The baker told me all about it 
afterward, and this was the way it happened: 
Peter was lying asleep beside the stove in the cen¬ 
ter of the bake-shop, when all of a sudden he 
pricked up one ear, and then jumped on his feet 
and gave a bark. The baker was making out 
some bills behind the counter, and thought noth- 


182 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


ing of it until the next moment Peter gave one 
jump, and was in the show-window among the pies 
and cakes and such like. The baker hollered to 
him to get out; but Peter began to claw at the 
window, and bark and howl. You see he could 
hear our whistle and bell and had recognized us. 
Then the baker made up his mind that the dog 
had gone mad, and was frightened and got up on a 
chair, and began to holler himself; and what be¬ 
tween the baker and Peter there was a high old 
time in that bake-sliop for a while. Every time 
Peter gave a kick, he knocked a pie or a plate full 
of cakes out of the window, until he had it clear of 
everything. Then we hove in sight, and through 
the side of the show-window he saw us and recog¬ 
nized me in the seat ? and that settled it — no bake- 
sliop could hold him then. He jumped back in 
the store, braced himself plumb in front of the 
pane of glass in the door, and when we were just 
about opposite he gave one last howl, and—crash ! 
out he came, through glass and all. 

“ I heard the racket, and turned my head just in 
time to see him come flying out. I understood it all 
in a moment, and expected to see him roll over dead 
in the gutter. But not much! He came through 
so quick he scarcely got a scratch; and away he 



! ” 


“crash! out he came, through glass and all 






























PETER SPOTS — FIREMAN 


185 


went down the street ahead of us, barking at every 
one, and clearing the way just as he used to, and 
running around in a circle and jumping high in 
the air and cutting up gymnastics—and happy! — 
well, I just guess he was happy. Even the Captain 
heard him in all the racket behind the engine, and 
let up on the whistle long enough to holler ahead 
to me to look out and not run over him; but there 
was small fear of that, for he beat us by half a 
block all the way to the fire. 

44 When we got there we 4 stretched in and stood 
fast,’ as we call it, which means we stretched in the 
hose and got ready to go to work when so or¬ 
dered ; but they did n’t need us, for the fire was 
pretty well out then, and the third alarm had only 
been sent as a sort of precaution; so in a few mo¬ 
ments the Chief ordered us back to quarters. 

44 When we were ‘picking up,’ or putting the 
hose back in the wagon, Peter was round among 
us like old times, and every one of the 4 gang ’ had 
a kind word for him. He was cut a bit about the 
back with glass, so the Captain says: 4 Throw him 
in the wagon, boys, and we ’ll take him back to 
the house, and mend him up. I ’ll put him on 
probation; and if he acts right he can stay with 
us as long as he likes.’ And then he adds: 4 But 


186 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


yon fellows will have to chip in and pay for that 
pane of glass.’ And we all laughed; for we were 
willing to pay for a whole window to get Peter 
back again. 

“ Well, I guess I ’ve tired you almost out telling 
you about Peter’s trials and troubles; but you see, 
sir, we are all so fond of him we never get tired 
talking about him to any one who cares to hear. 
Now he ’s settled down and got to be a regular 
fixture — no more pranks or tricks — steady as an 
old-timer. He got all over bothering the horses. 
Never did so after we got him back; and anyway, 
he don’t get much chance now. W r e’ve got one of 
the quickest teams in the business, and they can 
race a mile with that old five tons of machinery 
behind them with any other team in the Depart¬ 
ment; and Peter has all he can do to keep from 
getting run over; so he gives them a wide berth. 
When we catch a fire in a butcher-shop he takes 
full charge, and w r e always turn it right over to 
him. He’s very busy then. But when we strike 
a fire in a bakery — not much ! You could n’t get 
him to go near it for love or money. He always 
gets right up in the hose-wagon, on the driver’s 
seat, and won’t budge for any one; and if you go 
near him, after the fire is out, and make believe 


PETER SPOTS — FIREMAN 


187 


you ’re going to grab him and carry him in the 
bakery, maybe he won’t growl and show his 
teeth !—well, I just guess! He is n’t going to take 
any more chances of getting shut up with crullers 
and cakes for company. 

“Cute! Well, I should say so—why, when 
Dauchey’s wagon drives up now (that’s the baker 
who had him for a while), and Peter sees it, he has 
important business down in the cellar, and nothing 
can get him out of there except an alarm of fire. 
He knows that wagon well. I do believe if he 
was to meet it on the way to a fire he would go 
’way around the block to dodge it. Why, say — I 
think —” 

But I never heard what Joe thought, for at that 
instant a gong began to ring,—a dozen men seemed 
to drop from the very sky,— horses rushed past 
me,— there was a shout here and there, and a 
voice yelled: “632. Seventy-fourth Street and 
Eighth Avenue,”—the big doors opened, and be¬ 
fore I could recover my senses the engine rolled 
by me, with Peter’s biographer in the seat and two 
figures clinging on behind. It left a streak of 
steam and a strong smell of burning oil as it rolled 
out, and I could see one of the figures dash a great 
burning mass into the furnace of the engine. The 


188 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


next instant a wagon full of partly dressed men 
dashed by me, and I was alone in the big house, 
the gong beating away with a peculiar jerking 
“ bang, bang,” and a thin stream of steam oozing 
from the steam-pipe in the floor, over which the 
“five tons of machinery” had stood a quarter of a 
minute before. 

A hat and coat and a lialter-strap thrown here 
and there on the floor were all the evidence left of 
the fifteen or sixteen living, breathing creatures — 
men and horses—that had stood around me a few 
seconds before. The change had come so quickly 
I could scarcely realize it, and as I stepped outside, 
while a friendly neighbor closed the massive doors, 
I unconsciously looked about me for my friend and 
for Peter. But they were gone — had vanished 
from the street as quickly as they had from the 
house, and all that remained was a thin haze of 
smoke that filled the air with an odd, pungent 
smell. In the distance I could hear the clang of a 
bell, the shrieks of a whistle gradually dying away, 
and above all the shrill barks of a dog — cries so 
sharp and penetrating that I shall never forget 
them. 

This was Peter Spots, fireman, on duty. 


FLOATING FIRE-ENGINES. 

* 

W ITH the growth of a large city, the protec¬ 
tion of the water-front from the ravages of 
fire becomes an important study, almost as impor¬ 
tant as the study of fire protection for the city it¬ 
self. Nearly every large city in the United States 
owes its growth to its nearness to some body of 
water, either lake, river, or sea, which offers ex¬ 
ceptional advantages for the transportation of im¬ 
mense quantities of merchandise, and also provides 
harborage to all manner of craft engaged in this 
work. 

This merchandise has to be stored somewhere 
during the process of loading and unloading these 
vessels, and the big warehouses and wharf-build¬ 
ings along the water-front serve this purpose; but 
very often the most valuable cargoes are stored for 
a time in the flimsiest kind of buildings, needing 
but a spark to start a destructive conflagration. 


189 


190 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


As a city increases in size its importance as a 
freight-center grows in proportion; and the value 
of freight and merchandise stored alongshore, dur¬ 
ing transit, in a big city like New York, can only 
be imagined. No reasonable valuation can be 
given, for we should have to dive too deeply into 
the amounts of imports and exports to get any¬ 
where near the truth; but it is safe to say that 
one hundred millions would scarcely cover the 
property exposed to the danger of fire, in a single 
day, among the piers and wharf-houses of New 
York City. 

Nor is this danger confined to piers and wharf - 
buildings alone, but vessels in the act of loading 
and unloading valuable cargoes, the big bonded 
warehouses along the river-front, the docks for 
great ocean steamers, and the freight stations of 
many big railroads, are also exposed to this risk, 
and need to be w r ell protected, for a serious fire 
among them would destroy more valuable property 
than perhaps a fire of the same extent in the very 
heart of the city. 

Fires alongshore are difficult ones to handle. 
There is always more or less wind near the water; 
if a gale is blowing it seems to have twice as much 
force on the water-front, and a fire once started 


THE “ NEW YORKER ” AT FIRE DRILL 












FLOATING FIRE-ENGINES 


193 


here spreads very rapidly. Then fires on the piers, 
or in the wharf buildings, are usually very hard to 
fight; although there is plenty of water all around 
it is difficult to apply it to good effect. The land 
forces can only fight spell a fire from one position 
—the street side; and if the wind is blowing in¬ 
land it drives the smoke and fire directly at them, 
and makes it nearly impossible to hold this posi¬ 
tion. It is here that the floating fire-engine or fire- 
boat can do its valuable work; and New York 
possesses a fleet of such vessels — three boats that 
are fully able to cope with a fire of almost any 
size, whether it be among the shipping, along¬ 
shore, or anywhere in the harbor. 

Foremost among these vessels stands the fire- 
boat New Yorker (officially known as Engine Co. 
No. 57), as she is without doubt the most powerful 
fire-boat afloat. The New Yorker's berth is at the 
Battery, where she lies beside a tasteful building 
erected by the Fire Department as a housing for 
her crew or company. This building is fitted up 
with all the requirements of an engine-house — 
bunk-room up-stairs, sliding-poles to make a quick 
descent to the ground floor, and a complete set of 
telegraph instruments, to inform the company of 
all the alarms throughout the city. She lies with 


13 


194 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


steam up, at all times ready to respond in an 
instant to any alarm, whether it be by telegraph 
or a cry for assistance from a burning boat in mid¬ 
river. She will dash up the river to attack a burn¬ 
ing pier or warehouse, or down the bay to meet an 
incoming steamship with its cargo afire, with the 
same activity. Her powerful pumps make her 
almost invincible in any kind of marine fire, and 
she is also a valuable assistant to the land forces. 

As she lies at her berth by the Battery, she 
attracts a great deal of attention from all new 
arrivals in the harbor, and on account of her for¬ 
midable appearance she is usually put down as 
some new-fangled torpedo-throwing addition to 
our navy, for with the rows of brass-headed hose- 
connections along the side of the deck-house, and 
the vicious-looking stand-pipes, or “ monitor- 
nozles,” as they are called, mounted fore and aft, 
she certainly has a defiant and business-like ap¬ 
pearance. 

In build she looks like a rather handsome tug. 
She is 125 feet long, 26 feet wide, and draws about 
13 feet of water. She is built of steel and iron 
throughout, making her thoroughly fire-proof, even 
the top of the wheel-house and cabin being made 
of a kind of cement as hard as stone. There is 







GIANT MONITOR-NOZLE ON TIIE FIRE-BOAT 


NEW YORKER. 







FLOATING FIRE-ENGINES 


197 


little woodwork about her to ignite, and she is thus 
enabled to approach very close to a fire and deliver 
her powerful streams at short range. She has two 
very large boilers and four sets (eight in all) of 
vertical, double-acting steam-pumps, and one ad¬ 
ditional small direct-acting pump. 

These pumps have a throwing capacity of fully 
10,000 gallons of water every minute, and under the 
best conditions they have been known to reach 
12,000 gallons per minute — over 6000 gallons more 
than any other fire-boat afloat. The water is drawn 
in through the sides of the boat, below the water-line, 
into what is known as the “ suction-bay,” making 
an inner reservoir from which the pumps are fed. 

There are about 10,000 little holes, f-inch in 
diameter, bored in the sides of the boat just out¬ 
side these suction-bavs, and through these holes 
the water is drawn in, filtering it so that no for¬ 
eign substance may get into the pumps. From 
the pumps it is forced into an air-chamber, thus 
equalizing the pressure all around, and then into a 
veritable water-main 12 inches in diameter, which 
runs all around the boat, between decks, and which 
supplies the various outlets. There are forty-two 
of these outlets (including the four stand-pipes 
or monitor-nozles), and they vary in size from 6 


198 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


inches in diameter down to 2J inches (the size of 
the regulation fire-hose). Two of the monitor- 
nozles are mounted aft, on top of the cabin, and 
a big and a small one on top of the wheel-house. 
The two stand-pipes aft have 2J-inch nozles, the 
big one on the wheel-house having a 3J-inch open¬ 
ing. From the latter a solid 3£-inch stream can be 
thrown a distance of 320 feet, and if necessary this 
can be increased to a 5J-inch opening, and a mighty 
stream of water, having that width, can be sent 
thundering out into space over 200 feet. If you 
could hear this immense stream as it pours into 
the bay, like a miniature cataract, you could better 
appreciate the power of this remarkable boat. 

No body of fire could very long withstand a del¬ 
uge like this, and it requires only a few dashes of 
this massive stream effectively to quench a fire in 
the rigging or in the upper works of a ship. The 
small monitor-nozle mounted on the other side of 
the wheel-house has a If-inch opening, and a pow¬ 
erful stream can also be thrown from this, and of 
course to a much greater distance, for as the 
stream is reduced in diameter it can go a great 
deal farther. 

To the outlets along the side of the deck-house 
and at the bow and stern are attached short lengths 


FLOATING FIRE-ENGINES 


199 


of liose, to fight fire at close range. The pumps of 
the New Yorker are so powerful, and the pressure 
at these outlets is so great, that it would he impos¬ 
sible for men to handle these lines if there were not 
some sort of machinery to aid them, and therefore 
an appliance known as a “rail-pipe” is brought 
into play. This is something like a big row- 
lock, and is set in the gunwale in the same manner 
that a row-lock is set in the rail of a row-boat. It 
is fastened beneath the rail with a pin, and be¬ 
tween the forks is swung an iron connection, oar- 
fashion, pivoted at the sides. The short length of 
hose is attached to one end of this connection, 
and a nozle to the other, and with this device 
one man is able to control and direct the heaviest 
stream with ease. • The monitor-nozles also can 
be managed by one man each. 

The fire-proof construction of the New Yorker 
makes it possible to get very near a fire and de¬ 
liver the powerful side-streams at short range; and 
should the heat become so intense that the men 
are not able to stand by the rail-pipes, protecting 
shields are brought into use, behind which they 
can direct the streams with comfort. These shields 
slide along, inside the rail, on a kind of railway, 
so they can be placed at any part of the boat; and 


200 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


there is one on each side. They are made of two 
thicknesses of corrugated iron, with an air space 
between, thus preventing the inner lining from 
becoming heated. They are arched at the top, 
and in shape are somewhat like the shields used 
to protect the gunners while working at the rapid- 
firing guns on our modern men-of-war. 

There is an opening at the bottom of these 
shields for the nozles of the rail-pipes to project 
through, and an oblong slot above for the fireman 
to look through and direct the water. With the 
aid of this protection for the men, and because of 
her own salamander-like construction, the New 
Yorker is able to sail up close to a burning vessel 
or pier and deliver a broadside of powerful streams 
where the ordinary wooden fire-tug could not come 
within fighting distance; and her ability to do 
this, and her immense pumps, make her with¬ 
out a doubt the most complete and effective mar¬ 
ine fire-engine ever built. 

A curious application of one of our national 
laws governing river boats is found in the New 
Yorker. Although she is thoroughly fire-proof 
in construction, and has ample appliances for 
throwing water in every direction, yet she is 
compelled to carry a number of the regulation 


FIRE-BOAT “ZOPIIAR MILLS 












FLOATING FIRE-ENGINES 


203 


fire-buckets, just as if she were an ordinary river 
or coast-wise boat. To make an exception in 
her case a new law would have to be passed to 
cover her case alone. 

At fires in buildings along the river-front, or in 
streets near the river, the New Yorker can lie at a 
dock near-by and supply twenty effective streams; 
and, in fact, in capacity she is equal to that num¬ 
ber of land engines. If the fire is some distance 
from the water-front, immense lengths of hose, six 
inches in diameter, can be attached to the outlets 
of that size in the sides of the deck-house, and 
by the aid of reducing connections can be re¬ 
duced in size, as the lines are stretched into the 
fire, until they reach the regulation sizes — 2£ 
or 3 inches at the nozle end. She can supply six of 
these powerful streams effectively at a distance of 
one third of a mile from her location; and at big 
fires she becomes a valuable aid to the land force. 

The New Yorker made her earliest appearance as 
a fire fighter at the burning of the Sound steamer 
City of Richmond , at her pier, foot of Peck Slip, 
on March 7, 1891. 

She was called from her berth at the Battery, 
and, sailing up the East River, “ opened fire ” on 
the burning boat with a monitor-nozle while still 


204 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


in mid-stream. The stream struck the boat with 
terrific force, knocking the woodwork in every di¬ 
rection and breaking off strong uprights and sup¬ 
ports as if they had been pipe-stems. There were 
several land companies working on the boat at the 
time, both engine and hook and ladder, and they 
dropped their hose and tools and fled in dismay at 
the beginning of this liquid bombardment, fearing 
for their lives. 

The Chief in command at the fire rushed to the 
end of the pier and signaled to the New Yorker 
to shut off the stream that was creating such a 
panic. For a moment the order was misunder¬ 
stood, and, thinking the stream was wanted in 
another position, it was shifted. In doing so it 
hit the end of the pier and almost lifted the roof 
of the wharf building at the end. Finally, it 
was understood on board the New Yorker that 
the big stream was not wanted, six smaller lines 
were substituted by her crew, and these greatly 
assisted the land forces in getting the fire under 
control. 

There is no need for these floating fire-engines 
to carry “ truck” companies along to “open up ” for 
them so they can get at the seat of the fire, as with 
the land companies. One blow from one of these 


THE FIRE-BOAT “ WM. F. 1IAVEMEYEH ’’ BEGINNING WORK ON A BURNING BIER 














FLOATING FIRE-ENGINES 


207 


powerful streams, or even from one of the smaller 

streams, is sufficient to make a hole in anything, 

* 

even an ordinary brick wall. When we know that 
a 3^-inch stream can be thrown a distance of 320 
feet, or a 2- or 2^-inch stream nearly 400 feet, we 
can easily imagine what terrific force such a stream 
must have at a distance of, say, 50 feet; and I fear 
that the wall of bricks and cement has not been 
put up that could long withstand an onslaught 
from a hydraulic battery like this. 

Next to the New Yorker comes the fire-boat Zo- 
phar Mills , a graceful-looking boat that lies at 
Pier 58, North River (near the West Fourteenth 
Street ferry). She is older than the New Yorker 
in build by about eight years, being put in ser¬ 
vice in 1882, while the latter boat was not built 
until 1890. In appearance she has the trim lines 
of a handsome river-boat, and does not look unlike 
one of the graceful river-tugs that we often see 
gliding up the Hudson with a procession of small 
boats in tow. She is painted white; and were it 
not for the formidable monitor-nozles mounted in 
the bow and on top of the cabin and the wheel- 
house, we should never suspect her to be capable 
of the active work of a floating fire-engine. 

She is 125 feet long, 25 feet wide, and draws 


208 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


about 11 feet of water. Her pumps consist of two 
duplex and one single pump, and tliey have a ca¬ 
pacity of about 2400 gallons of water every minute, 
and under favorable circumstances have reached 
over 3000 gallons per minute. She can supply 
fourteen streams effectively, and from the stand¬ 
pipes at the bow and on the cabin, with a lf-inch 
nozle, she can throw the water 300 feet. The rail- 
pipes are used on the ZopJiar Mills as on the New 
Yorker. She also can supply powerful streams at 
land fires. At an experiment which was tried 
several years ago, in what is known as the “ dry- 
goods district” (one of the most valuable of the 
business districts of New 7 York City), when there 
was danger of a water-famine, the ZopJiar Mills 
pumped enough water into a portable water-tank, 
situated a mile away from her location, to supply 
four land-engines. This proved that with an aid 
like the ZopJiar Mills or the New Yorker it would 
be possible to extinguish fires in this district, even 
though the water in the city’s mains was too low 
to supply the engines. 

The ZopJiar Mills has seen active service and 
has been of great use in extinguishing several 
large fires. At the burning of a big wall-paper 
factory in West Forty-second Street, a few years 


FLOATING FIRE-ENGINES 


209 


ago, she lay at the end of a long pier at the foot 
of that street and sent a powerful stream, through 
2100 feet of hose, to the fire. At a serious fac¬ 
tory fire, last summer, in Greenwich Street I saw 
a stream from this boat at work, and it was really 
fascinating to watch the mighty power of it. It 
took six or eight men to control the stream, and 
you could hear it thundering and crashing in the 
building, as it knocked packing-cases about and 
crashed through partitions and woodwork. 

The crew of the boat are housed aboard in a 
bunk-room in the forward part of the cabin. There 
is a building on the dock beside which she lies; 
but this contains only an office, with the instru¬ 
ments for receiving the alarms; and part of it is 
used as a store-room for supplies, etc. This build¬ 
ing is left in charge of the “ house-watchman ” when 
the boat responds to an alarm. 

The Zophar Mills covers the North River in 
answer to signals from Fifty-ninth Street down 
to the Battery. She goes above Fifty-ninth Street 
as far as the city limits on special calls. The 
New Yorker comes up the North River as far as 
Twenty-third Street on the first alarm. They both 
respond very often to the same box. The New 
Yorker goes also up the East River to Grand Street 


i-i 


210 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


on the first alarm, where the third vessel of the 
fleet lies — the Wm. F. Havemeyer. This latter 
vessel covers the whole of the East River from 
Whitehall Street to the Harlem River, a distance 
of about nine miles. 

The Havemeyer is the oldest of the three vessels, 
having been built in 1875. She is 106 feet long, 
22 feet wide, and draws 10 feet of water. In ap¬ 
pearance she looks like the ordinary harbor tug; 
and although she has seen twenty-two years of 
service she is still in excellent condition. She is 
fitted with four duplex fire-pumps that have a 
capacity of 2100 gallons of water a minute. She 
can deliver this water through stand-pipes and 
different sizes of hose, with nozles varying from 1 
inch to 3J inches in diameter. She has been a 
valuable and efficient aid to the land companies, 
and has extinguished a large number of fires among 
the shipping. 

These boats serve a double purpose, for they 
are not only effective water-throwing engines, but 
powerful tugs as well. When a fire is discovered 
on a ship lying among other vessels, a line is fas¬ 
tened to her, and she is towed out into mid-stream, 
where she cannot spread destruction about her. 
A few dashes from the powerful monitor-nozle 


FLOATING FIRE-ENGINES 


211 


soon puts out any fire in the rigging and upper 
works. If the fire has spread to the hold or has 
eaten in among the cargo, she is towed down 
to the mud-flats, near Liberty Island, or to the 
sand-bars south of Glovernor’s Island, and beached. 
Then the big lengths of hose are passed aboard, 
large metal connections are fastened to the ends, 
and these are thrust into the hold, or into any 
compartment where there is fire, and she is soon 
pumped full of water and the fire drowned out. If 
a boat like the New Yorker has charge of this work 
it is quickly accomplished. 

This saves the hull of the vessel and lessens the 
damage considerably, for the owners can have her 
pumped out afterward, and, the hull remaining 
intact, there is nothing but the burned interior to 
repair. If she were scuttled in mid-stream, the 
hull would interfere with navigation, and it would 
cost a large amount to raise the vessel; so it can 
be seen that these boats can render other services 
than that of extinguishing fires. 

In fires on vessels loaded with cotton (they make 
ugly fires to handle), a lighter is usually brought 
alongside, and after the worst of the fire has been 
subdued the bales are hoisted out, one by one, and 
extinguished as they are brought out. By this 


212 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


means part of the cargo is saved, for only the 
surfaces of the bales are on tire, and they can 
be picked over and re-baled, and sold again, 
while to fill the vessel full of water and drown out 
the fire would destroy the whole cargo; and a cot¬ 
ton fire might burn for months if fought in any 
other way. 

On these boats the men’s life is about the same 
as in the land companies. Two men are kept on 
watch at all times — one a “ house-watch ” and the 
other a u deck-watch.” The liouse-watchman keeps 
track of the alarms and special calls, and the going 
and coming of members of the company to and 
from meals, and has charge of the “house jour¬ 
nal.” , The deck-watch sees that other boats do 
not run into his vessel, and also keeps a sharp 
look-out for fires along the river. In the summer, 
when there are few fires, a position on the fire- 
boat is a pleasant berth, for there is plenty of out¬ 
door life and sunshine in it; but in winter, when a 
keen nor’wester is blowing and every bit of spray 
freezes hard wherever it strikes, the land com¬ 
panies, no doubt, have the advantage. 

Fighting fire along the water-front in mid-winter 
has all the dangers and the suffering of fire-duty 
ashore, and climbing up the sides of vessels and 


THE “NEW YORKER” AND “ ZOFHAR MILLS” AT WORK UPON A BURNING SHIP 












FLOATING FIRE-ENGINES 


215 


upon wharfs and piers, getting lines into posi¬ 
tion, when every bit of surface is covered with a 
thick coating of ice, is risky business; but, as one 
of the crew of the Zophar Mills remarked philoso¬ 
phically, “You have to take it as it comes — the 
fat and the lean together.” 

Brooklyn has two very efficient fire-boats, the 
David A. Boody and the Setli Low. The first has 
a capacity of 5500 gallons per minute, and the 
second is capable of throwing nearly 4000 gallons 
of water in the same time. With the consolidation 
of the two cities under the Greater New York 
charter, which takes effect January 1,1898, all these 
vessels will practically belong to the same Fire 
Department, so that the “greater city” will have 
a fleet of six powerful fire-boats (there is one now 
in course of construction for the New York 
Department), with a combined water-throwing 
capacity of over 35,000 gallons of water per minute 
(estimating about 8000 capacity for the new boat) 
— averitable deluge ! 

But when we stand on the Brooklyn Bridge and 
can see the forest of vessels lying in Erie Basin, 
and look up and down the East River at the fringe 
of boats lying at both the Brooklyn and New York 
sides, with the thousands of craft coming and go- 


216 


FLOATING FIRE-ENGINES 


ing every moment through this busy stream, we 
can easily imagine what dreadful havoc a serious 
conflagration would cause if it should once get any 
headway among this mass of shipping. 

There are about eighteen miles of water-front on 
both sides of Manhattan Island, and about the 
same distance on the Brooklyn side, counting from 
Long Island City to Fort Hamilton—a big surface 
exposed to the dangers of fire, and a large territory 
to cover effectually; but when he reflects upon the 
protection given by the efficient fleet of floating 
fire-engines that I have just described, I am sure 
the average skipper need not be unduly anxious 
when lying at anchor or tied to a pier in the harbor 
of Greater New York. 


THE FIRE PATROL 


* 

r I ^HE annual loss by fire in the United States 
amounts to over one hundred millions of dol¬ 
lars, and fully one half of this loss is caused by the 
water used in extinguishing the fires. Before the 
introduction in 1872 of controlling or shut-off noz¬ 
zles used on the fire-hose, the percentage of loss by 
water was even greater-—at least two thirds of the 
total loss. Previous to the introduction of this 
much-needed device, there was used what was 
known as an “ open pipe,” a plain, open nozzle 
with no contrivance for shutting off the water. 
When it was necessary to shut off, the order had 
to be passed to the engineer, sometimes a long 
distance from the fire; and unless the nozzle could 
be thrust from a convenient window, the water 
would go pouring out, spreading destruction in all 
directions. In small fires, especially in “up-stairs” 
fires in private dwellings, or in business houses 

217 


218 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


stocked with perishable goods, such as feathers, 
silks, etc., the unnecessary destruction of property 
was very great. 

To-day, fires are fought much more scientifi¬ 
cally, and with a great deal more system, than 
were those of ten or twenty years ago; and officers 
in command of engine companies are usually very 
careful not to use any more water than is abso¬ 
lutely necessary. Nearly every liose-w r agon in the 
New York Fire Department to-day carries three 
sizes of hose — the regulation size, 2J-incli, used at 
all ordinary fires; 3-incli (known as “ third-alarm 
hose,” and used only at fires of considerable mag¬ 
nitude), and a small hose carried on a reel under 
the wagon. This hose is 1£ inches in diameter, 
and very easy to handle, and, on account of the 
ease with which any number of lengths of it can 
be carried about, it is that oftenest used at small 
fires in dwelling-houses, office-buildings, and flats. 
With a controlling nozzle on the end, the fireman 
can dash up several flights of stairs and into a 
bedroom or closet, and extinguish a small fire be¬ 
fore it has time to spread, using the water only 
where it is absolutely needed. To drag the regu¬ 
lation size (it weighs about eighty pounds to the 
length) up and around winding stairways, etc., 


THE CHEMICAL ENGINE. 



















THE FIRE PATROL 


221 


would take much longer, and perhaps give a fire 
time to get just beyond the point of easy control; 
besides, when the water is finally started, a great 
deal more is used by this hose than is necessary, 
especially in the case of a small fire. It has 
been practically demonstrated that a considerable 
amount of fire can be extinguished with a small 
amount of water applied effectively, and the use of 
the small hose has done much to reduce the dam¬ 
age by water at fires in dwellings and flats. 

Then the “ Chemical Engine,” used considerably 
in the fire departments of several cities, has aided 
materially in lowering the loss by water at small 
fires. The preparation carried in the tanks of 
these engines has a double advantage; not only 
does it extinguish a large body of fire with the use 
of a small amount of water, but the liquid itself 
evaporates quickly, leaving very little “drip” in 
the apartments or floors underneath the fire. 

The tanks of these engines are charged with a 
solution of bicarbonate of soda (baking-soda) and 
water, with a small cylinder of sulphuric acid sus¬ 
pended at the top. When the tank is inverted, 
this acid is emptied into the soda and water, and 
the mixture at once generates carbonic-acid gas at 
n great pressure. Charging the liquid with this 


222 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


gas gives it the necessary pressure to drive it a 
considerable distance. The hose is coiled around 
a reel on top of the engine, and always connected 
with the tanks, so when the firemen arrive at a 
fire all they have to do is to run oft* as much hose 
as they need, dash up-stairs with the line, give the 
order to “ dump ” one of the tanks (there are two, 
carrying sixty gallons each), and they are all 
ready to go to work. The Chemical Engine, a 
picture of which is shown on page 219, has extin¬ 
guished more than twenty-five fires of consider¬ 
able size since it has been in service in the New T 
York Department, a little over a year. It is sta¬ 
tioned on the upper west side of the city, where 
there are a great number of dwellings and flats, 
and it has aided materially in keeping down the 
fire losses in that part of New York. 

With the use of improved methods such as I 
have described, the losses by water at fires have 
undoubtedly been greatly reduced in the past few 
years in our larger cities, but it is also due to the 
efficiency of a separate organizati on, entirely inde¬ 
pendent of the Fire Department, that an immense 
amount of property is saved annually from de¬ 
struction by water and by fire as well. 

No doubt many people have noticed, when an 


THE FIRE PATROL 


223 


alarm of fire has been sounded and the fire ap¬ 
paratus arrives, a big red wagon dashing up, filled 
with men wearing red fire-hats and white rubber 
coats. They seem to be part of the regular Fire 
Department, and yet are not. They are dressed 
to all appearances like the regulation firemen, but 
their work is different, and few people know that 
they represent a separate branch of the fire ser¬ 
vice, and one entirely unconnected with the regu¬ 
lar department. 

In New York the organization is known as the 
“ Fire Patrol,” and it is controlled and supported 
by the Board of Fire Underwriters, acting for the 
various fire-insurance companies. 

Practically, this detachment of the Fire Patrol, 
that responds at every alarm of fire, is simply the 
representatives of all the insurance companies put 
together. The companies are assessed proportion¬ 
ally for the support of this Patrol, and the im¬ 
mense amount of property saved annually by this 
efficient body of men proves that the money is 
well spent. This organization is found in nearly 
every large city in the United States, and is 
known variously under such names as Fire Patrol, 
Protective Department, and Salvage Corps; but 
their work in each city is practically the same. 


224 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


The history of the New York branch of this 
novel addition to the fire service is not uninterest¬ 
ing, for its establishment dates back to the begin¬ 
ning of the present century, at which time it was 
known as the “Mutual Assistance Bag Company.” 

Originally this was a banding together of New 
York merchants for mutual protection at fires. 
Each member of the above “company” wore a 
“badge of distinction” at fires, consisting of a 
round hat with a black rim and a white crown 
bearing the initial letters of the organization, “M. 
A ”, on the front. He was also armed with two 
stout canvas bags about two by three feet in size, 
having upon the outside his name in full and the 
letters M. A. surrounded by a circle. At each alarm 
of fire the members of the company responded with 
hat and bags; and if a fellow-member’s property 
was in danger, saved what they could, and con¬ 
veyed it in these bags to some place of safety. 

We find among the list of members of this 
organization in 1803 such names as Beekman, 
Bleecker, Cruger, Cutting, De Peyster, Roosevelt, 
vGScint^ cLi^id otl. 10 1 as well known: showing 

7 o 

that many of the pioneer merchants of New York 
City were incorporators of this mutual fire-protec¬ 
tive association. It is extremely interesting to 


TIIE FIRE PATROL 



15 





















































































































































THE FIRE PATROL 


227 


picture to the mind a group of these sturdy old 
Knickerbockers, working energetically amid the 
exciting surroundings of a fire, stowing goods and 
chattels away in canvas bags bearing names that 
have since become historically famous or promi¬ 
nently identified with the growth of old Manhattan. 

In 1839 the present Fire Patrol was organized, 
practically evolving, so far as records show, from 
this same Mutual Bag Company. Their head¬ 
quarters were on Dutch Street, where a small 
wagon, pulled by hand, was kept stored on the top 
floor of a building. This wagon was lowered to 
the street each evening at 7 p. m., and hoisted back 
again at 5 a. m. ; between these hours the Fire Pa¬ 
trol men were on duty. Later the service was in¬ 
creased by the addition of another wagon and more 
men ; and in 1870 the Patrol was reorganized and 
put upon a more substantial and more effective 
basis. 

Three stations were opened in different parts of 
the city, and the companies, under command of 
three officers, were taken from the regular Fire De¬ 
partment. The most approved wagons and the 
best telegraphic instruments were introduced, and 
the finest horses obtainable were purchased for the 
service. 


228 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


It is a question whether any branch of the regu¬ 
lar Fire Department responded so quickly as the 
detachments from these different stations; and 
they presented a stirring picture as they thundered 
along on their way to a fire. 

The service in New York has been still further 
enlarged, and to-day there are five stations, each 
containing two sections or two complete companies; 
so when one section responds to an alarm, another 
complete section (officer, men, and wagon) is left 
in quarters. Each station is manned by a captain, 
a lieutenant, a sergeant, and from sixteen to twenty- 
four permanent men, and is further strengthened 
at night by the addition of ten auxiliary men avIio 
can be called upon at any moment for service. 
These are men who work during the day at va¬ 
rious other occupations, and are paid only for the 
time they are at fires. The permanent force is 
also recruited from these “ auxiliary men.” 

A section of this Patrol responds to every alarm 
of fire in New York City. They are entirely inde¬ 
pendent of the department system, their only con¬ 
nection being a telegraphic one by which they get 
all alarms from fire headquarters. When they ar¬ 
rive at a fire their duty is to save property and 
protect it from damage by water. This they do by 


THE FIRE PATROL 


229 


removing it when possible, or by covering it in the 
buildings with immense oil-skin or tarpaulin covers. 
Twenty-four of these covers are carried in each 
wagon, and each measures fourteen by twenty feet. 
This makes 6720 square feet of covering material, 
and a great deal of furniture, household goods, or 
valuable stock can be protected from water with 
the first wagon-load of covers. When more are 
needed, another wagon-load is sent for. 

These covers are not only spread over goods upon 
counters, tables, and so on, but they are fastened 
up at the sides of stores to protect property on the 
shelves. They can be hung over perishable goods 
in such a manner as to keep them practically in¬ 
tact while a serious fire is extinguished in the build¬ 
ing above them. The Fire Patrol men also take 
charge of a building after a fire and clean out all 
the rubbish and water. They also board up broken 
windows and openings made in the dead-lights over 
cellars, cover roofs that have been either burnt or 
cut away during the fire, and leave a man in charge 
until the losses have been adjusted with the insur¬ 
ance companies. 

They work in perfect harmony with the regular 
Fire Department, and very often are of great as¬ 
sistance to the latter, helping them to make open- 


230 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


ings in the buildings so as to get the lines of hose 
in position, and aiding the regular firemen in other 
ways. Their record of life-saving at fires is a bril¬ 
liant one, several of the most daring rescues having 
been performed by members of the Fire Patrol. 

Some of the wagons carry a complete set of 
life-saving appliances, such as scaling-ladders and 
life-nets, and the wagons also contain a large assort¬ 
ment of the tools used at fires. Small fires are fre¬ 
quently extinguished by the Patrol men, for they 
are very often the first company to arrive, and 
with the two portable fire-extinguishers, carried on 
each wagon, a small fire can be put out before the 
arrival of the engines. Thus it can be seen that 
their value as an aid to the regular Fire Depart¬ 
ment is not to be underestimated. 

Nor is it to be imagined for a moment that their 
work at fires is free from danger. They sometimes 
perform their special line of work under even more 
trying circumstances than do the firemen. At 
“ top-story ” or “ up-stairs ” fires in big warehouses 
filled with perishable goods, or in some of the big 
business buildings on Broadway (especially in the 
“ Dry Goods District ”), while the firemen are work¬ 
ing above, or on a line with the fire, the Fire Pa¬ 
trol men are working underneath , making the most 



FIRE PATROL MEN CARRYING COVERS INTO A BURNING STORE 
















THE FIRE PATROL 


233 


heroic efforts to save a stock sometimes fifteen or 
twenty times the value of that being consumed by 
the fire. They work in a smoke-cliarged atmo¬ 
sphere, spreading and hanging their covers while a 
scalding deluge of water blisters their hands, faces, 
and necks; for the tons of water being poured upon 
the flames have to pass through the fire before 
they descend, and often come down almost boiling. 

An incident that occurred at a severe fire in a 
big business house some two years ago will give 
an idea of what the members of these protective 
departments have to face at times in order to save 
property. The fire broke out about midnight in 
the basement of an immense fire-proof building on 
Greene Street, extending a whole block from West 
Fourth Street to Washington Place. When the 
firemen arrived, half the basement, or practically 
half the block, was in flames, but on account of the 
fire-proof construction of the building the fire was 
confined to the basement part. The fire was burn¬ 
ing so fiercely that the shutters of the basement 
windows were almost red-hot, and the dead-lights 
over the sidewalk were so heated that the tar 
around the glass was bubbling and running in 
streams across the walk to the gutter. The con¬ 
struction of the building was very substantial, and 


234 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


it was almost impossible for the firemen to make 
an entrance; indeed, the windows and dead-lights 
had to be broken in before they could secure access 
to the building and get to work. 

The basement was occupied by a straw-hat man¬ 
ufacturer, and the captain of No. 2 Fire Patrol 
(one of the first companies to arrive) felt sure there 
must be a sub-cellar stored with a most perish¬ 
able stock. How to reach it before the firemen 
began to throw water upon the fire was the ques¬ 
tion. It seemed well nigh impossible to get into 
the basement through the regular entrances; and 
to venture in while the fire was raging as it was 
seemed almost foolhardy, but he determined to 
reach the cellar at any cost and find out what it 
contained. After considerable effort he succeeded 
in making an entrance on the north side of the 
building (the main body of fire was on the south 
end), and groping his way through the smoke and 
darkness, lantern in hand, he found himself in the 
basement. The heat was intense and the air 
stifling. Ahead of him in the corner of the base¬ 
ment he could see the flames rolling about, crack¬ 
ling and roaring as they devoured case after case 
of goods. Peering through the thick atmosphere, 
it was some time before he could discover anything 


THE FIRE PATROL 


235 


that looked like tlie entrance to the cellar; but 
finally he spied a door about midway in the base¬ 
ment that he felt sure must lead to the sub-cellar. 
It was dangerously near the roaring furnace ahead 
of him, and he thought to himself: u Can I reach 
that and get into the cellar and back again before 
the fire cuts me off ? ” He made up his mind at 
least to make the effort. So he walked cautiously 
across the basement floor toward the door, keeping 
his eye on the fire all the time. It grew hotter and 
hotter as he advanced, and the perspiration was 
pouring from his face in great beads, and he was 
almost suffocated when his hand finally rested on 
the knob of the door. He opened it and stepped 
inside. What a relief! The transformation was 
almost marvelous, for the change from the heated 
atmosphere of the basement to the cool air of the 
cellar was like stepping out of a red-hot oven into 
an ice-box. 

He descended the cellar stairs rapidly, and hold¬ 
ing his lantern aloft, looked about him. It was as 
he had suspected. The cellar was filled with im¬ 
mense cases of straw hats, and although, owing to 
the fire-proof floor, the fire probably could not de¬ 
scend, when the many streams got to work the 
damage by water would be enormous. 


236 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


He hastily ascended; peering cautiously out of 
the door, he found the fire had not advanced any 
further. He then made his way quickly through 
the dense smoke to the street. 

He reported to the superintendent of the Patrol, 
who had arrived by this time, the fact that he had 
been in the basement and his discovery in the 
cellar, and told him he could do a great deal of 
good if he could only take the men down, and 
cover up the stock. The superintendent was at 
first loath to let him do so, for the situation looked 
too dangerous; but finally he gave permission, 
and the captain gathered his Patrol men about 
him, and armed with covers they followed him to 
the sub-cellar to “ cover up.” 

By this time the companies that had responded 
to the second and third alarms sent out were at 
work, as well as companies that had been or¬ 
dered into the basement; and the air in the cellar 
was not as pleasant as when the captain had first 
descended. The fire had begun to “settle,” and 
the sub-cellar was filled with a thick, murky 
smoke, while a constant, scalding drip was falling 
from the ceiling. 

In this dim, stifling atmosphere the Patrol men 
went to work with a will, spreading their water- 





IN THE CELLAR WITH THE FIRE. 






























































































































































THE FIRE PATROL 


239 


proof covers over case after case of valuable stock, 
while overhead they could hear the roaring and 
crackling of the flames, the splashing of the many 
streams as they were dashed about, and now and 
then a dull crash as some heavy piece of masonry 
was crumbled away by the heat. These were con¬ 
ditions under which few men would care to labor, 
and yet the members of the Patrol were working 
energetically, scarcely giving a thought to the 
danger that hung above them. 

At any moment the fire raging in the basement 
over their heads might get beyond the control of 
the firemen battling with it, and, spreading, cut 
off all means of escape, or the steel and iron struc¬ 
ture of the building, warped and twisted by the 
dreadful heat it was being subjected to, might 
give way and send floor after floor loaded with 
heavy merchandise crashing down upon them. 
This and a hundred other possibilities menaced 
them while they labored in the murky cellar; and 
when the work was done 101 covers had been 
spread, and property valued at over a hundred 
thousand dollars had been saved from destruction. 

When No. 2 Patrol returned to quarters the next 
morning (for it was nearly morning before they 
were through), there was scarcely a member whose 


240 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


neck, hands, and wrists were not scalded and blis¬ 
tered to a painful degree, for they had worked dur¬ 
ing nine hours in a veritable shower-bath of hotting 
water , from which there was no escape. 

Nor do they always get off so easily as in this 
case; many members have been maimed and in¬ 
jured at fires while in their endeavor to protect 
property. This little clipping, taken from a New 
York paper during 1893, tells how one brave man 
lost his life in the service, and the history of the 
organization has many similar cases. 


FIRE PATROLMAN KILLED 

August Milner of Fire Patrol No. 1 was killed while on 
duty at a fire last night at No. 436 Pearl Street. The 
building, a picture-frame factory, was stored with 
naphtha and varnish, which made a fierce blaze. Patrol¬ 
men Milner, Albert Donovan, James Burnett, George W. 
Waddy, and Theodore F. Ailing, all members of No. 1 
Patrol, were at work on the ground-floor covering up 
costly picture-frames with tarpaulin, when the ceiling 
came down, together with a lot of picture-frames stacked 
against the wall. Milner was pinned down by the debris 
with Donovan. 

The flames were spreading rapidly, but the members of 
Hook and Ladder Company No. 10 rushed to the rescue. 


THE FIRE PATROL 


241 


Frank Orgne of No. 10 pulled Donovan out. The liose 
was turned on the debris to prevent the flames from 
reaching Milner, who was completely covered. His 
would-be rescuers had to retreat to save their own lives, 
leaving him to his fate. It was said by Milner’s com¬ 
rade that he must have been killed by the falling debris. 

At fires in the homes of the poor these detach¬ 
ments of the Patrol work just as earnestly and 
conscientiously to save property as they would in 
the expensively furnished mansions of the rich. 
At tenement-house fires they are of great service. 
First they aid in getting the people out; then, 
gathering the goods together, the Patrol men pro¬ 
tect them from water with tarpaulin covers. The 
majority of these fires break out in the basements 
or cellars; then, following the air- and light-shafts 
to the top floor, they spread, and do the greatest 
damage in the upper stories. To extinguish these 
fires, the other floors below have to be flooded, and 
were it not for the Fire Patrol in many cases the 
poor families would lose everything they owned. 
As one of the captains of the Patrol remarked: 
“ Why, it would do your heart good if you could 
hear how profuse these poor people are in their 
thanks, and the blessings they shower on us when 
they find we’ve saved their things. They go run- 


16 


949 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


ning around, wringing their hands and crying: 
1 Everything ’s lost! Everything ’s lost! ’ and 
then, when the fire is out, we lead them back and 
show them their things, as dry as a chip under the 
covers, and — well, say — there is n’t anything 
they would n’t do for us! Half the time they ’re 
not insured, and it is n’t our business to protect 
people who are not; but we ’re not supposed to 
know everything, and our orders are to protect 
property first and find out whether it is insured 
afterward; and it is not our fault if we save the 
little all of a lot of poor creatures who half the 
time have n’t a change of clothes to their back. 
You bet, we get to work just as quick in a tene¬ 
ment-house fire as in a big house on Fifth Ave¬ 
nue, and we do the same work in both places, no 
matter whether it \s for the rich or the poor.” 

At serious fires in the Dry Goods District, or in 
big buildings and stores filled with valuable stock, 
the efficient work performed by the Patrol can 
scarcely be estimated. Most of these fires also 
spread to the upper floors, and about the only 
thing that can extinguish them effectively is the 
“ water-tower.” This appliance is the greatest 
friend and the greatest enemy that the insurance 
companies have; for while it puts out a big fire 



A WATER-TOWER AT WORK 


ilik 















THE FIRE PATROL 


245 


quickly, at the same time it destroys valuable prop¬ 
erty with water. When a fire is raging in the up¬ 
per part of a high building the water-tower can 
throw an immense stream practically on a line with 
the fire, and it can be driven clear through a floor 
or loft, really washing the fire out; but the tons of 
water descending through the floors below play sad 
havoc with a valuable stock; and in a structure 
filled with silks, laces, dry goods, upholstery ma¬ 
terials, or similar commodities, it can be readily 
seen what an immense amount of damage would 
be done if it were not for the quick covering of 
goods by the Patrol. There is no doubt that the 
annual saving to the insurance companies by the 
New York organization amounts to millions of 
dollars, so it can be seen that its existence is 
not in vain. 

In the picture on page 243 the water-tower is 
seen at work at a recent big fire in New York; and 
the picture also shows the stand-pipe or monitor- 
nozzle at the end of the wagon that carries the 
tower. Two u street-lines n are also at work, strik¬ 
ing the fifth and sixth floors respectively. While 
more or less of the water sent from the street-lines 
is spent on the outside of the building, the stream 
from the tower goes straight in through the fifth- 


24 G 


FIGHTING A FIRE 


story window, and very little of the water is lost 
outside. At a rough estimate, there are about 10- 
000 gallons a minute passing through these four 
streams, and some idea of the drip within the build¬ 
ing can be formed from the miniature Niagara 
pouring off the shed outside. Had the lower part 
of the building been filled with dry goods or other 
perishable stock, the loss would have been enor¬ 
mous ; but as it was filled with wines and liquors 
in cases, the loss, though heavy, was light in com¬ 
parison with the amount of water used. 

With a perfect Fire Department such as New 
York possesses to-day, and an efficient auxiliary 
force in the Fire Patrol that I have just described, 
the wholesale losses by fire of former years ought 
to be soon a thing of the past in this great city. 
With the two forces combined, we have undoubt¬ 
edly before us the greatest fire-service of any city 
in the world. Yet, when we consider that in 1896 
there were 4309 alarms of fire in New York City, 
and that out of this number 3890 were actual fires, 
we can easily realize that there must be a perfect 
organization to combat such a foe. That New 
York possesses such an organization I firmly 
believe. 











































